


The Girl Who Hated Ghouls

by ShotgunSugar



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Depression, F/M, Slow Burn, sailor talk (cursing duh), steamy romance (eventually)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShotgunSugar/pseuds/ShotgunSugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A (slightly non-canon) relationship forms between Mayor Hancock and a caravan guard, named Silverfish, from Capitol Wasteland. Things are rocky in the beginning but Silverfish admires someone that can handle themselves in a fight and Hancock enjoys the company of a woman that can hold her chems.<br/>Definitely a slow burn with a 98% chance of smut. Hope you have fun reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so let's just get this out of the way, yes, I'm throwing in something of an OC. I wanted to use the female soul survivor but the story line is SO hard set. You had a husband, you got a kid to find, you can't really just ignore those things in a story the way you can in the game. The result of this, as far as I've seen, is that a lot of FO4 fics stick pretty close to the main story line and I really wanted the freedom to write something different. By using this OC the story can just flow freely and I can follow it wherever the characters drive it, without a kid and a war to worry about. You have my promise that everything else will be as canon as could be. 
> 
> p.s. this is my first time posting a fic so if they are too long or short or anything like that lemme know ok? Thanks you're a doll.

It had been close to three months since Nate and Hancock parted ways just south of the Dunwich Borers Quarry. The place had been crawling with raiders and ferals in equal measure. Clearing it out had left them both exhausted, and honestly, a bit spooked.

Nate casually mentioned he could go for a little down time, and that he thought he ought to check in with a minuteman by the name of Preston. This minuteman Preston was apparently holding down the fort in some place called Sanctuary. Hancock agreed that it sounded like a good call, but told Nate that he hadn’t quite managed to scratch the itch he had set out to take care of when he left Goodneighbor. He needed more time on the road. They agreed to meet again sometime later after Hancock assured Nate that he had plenty of contacts that could track him down and pass a message along to him from just about anywhere in the Commonwealth. All he had to do was ask around Goodneighbor.

For a slightly backwards pre-war solider Nate was a stand-up guy, so Hancock made a mental note to keep tabs on him when possible.

Since their split, Hancock had started working his way south west, towards Bunker Hill. He spent several nights in an all ghoul settlement simply referred to as The Slog, sleeping in some sort of work shed and getting stoned into oblivion. After that he stopped to poke around the Saugus Iron place but quickly discovered that the raiders that had taken up there were not to be taken lightly. He thought it best if he took a pass on that fight.

The road wasn’t easy alone, but Hancock had faced it plenty of times before. Mostly it was lonely. He had grown so accustomed to the low hum of Goodneighbor, he had forgotten just how quiet night time in the wasteland could be. However, he wasn’t the type to get himself down over small things like that, so he buried his thoughts in more chems.

According to the last known date on Nate’s Pip-Boy it was just about mid-January and the weather was starting to show it. The nights had been getting colder for weeks and Hancock had to admit he missed the warmth of the state house now, but he wasn’t ready to return just yet. Instead he found a heavier coat of gray coarse wool in a barely standing barn and began to wear it to combat the cold. Later he looted a high quality hooded gas mask from a now dead raider to keep the bitter wind off his face. His treasured frock coat and tricorn hat had to be packed away for sunnier days. Now he looked no different than any other shady drifter roaming the Commonwealth, and he had to admit, it was a bit fun.

One night when the wind was particularly harsh Hancock scrambled into a mostly intact building to bed down for the night. To his surprise instead of encountering the usual ferals or raiders, he found a couple of traveling ghouls, who welcomed him into their fold and offered to share their fire. They chatted amiably for a while about the lousy weather and the latest news on the institute. They hadn’t recognized him as the fearsome mayor of Goodneighbor and that was fine by him. Out on the road, he simply wanted to be John. What good would getting away do if everyone continued to treat him like “the man” all the time? No, these ghouls had simply wanted to show a fellow traveler some kindness. That was the face of the Commonwealth he had wanted to see.

Neither of them batted an eye when he withdrew the inhaler of jet from his pocket and shook it up for a quick buzz. He ended up sharing the remains of the canister with the female ghoul.

“Ah man, spent,” he grumbled giving it a final shake just to be sure before tossing the empty canister aside.

“We aren’t carrying any ourselves I’m afraid, but, if you need to restock, I heard a rumor that might be worth checking out,” the lady ghoul informed him.

Hancock’s interest was piqued. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Another caravaner told me that some chem dealer and her addict brother up and split from vault 81 a while back. There might be a decent stash of chems laying around the place they are itching to get rid of on the cheap. If you wanna head that far west that is.”

“Vault dwellers leaving their cozy little hole? What’s the deal with that I wonder?” Hancock puzzled aloud.

“Oh, it’s a wild one,” interjected the male ghoul, who was roasting a pan of squirrel meat over the fire. “I guess some kid from the vault was messing around in some hidden tunnels, only they weren’t just tunnels. I heard that it was like a whole second vault down there nobody knew about. Well this kid, he got bit by a mole rat.”

Hancock shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“These weren’t no ordinary mole rats they had down there. They were infected with some kinda nasty disease. That was that vault’s experiment, testing diseases and medicine and such way back when. I guess it all went belly up before it really got rolling. The vault population never knew.”

“Damn Vault-Tech bastards,” Hancock muttered taking the portion of meat offered to him.

“You can say that again. Anyways, this vault kid was in real grim condition, but then this traveler from some _other_ vault stepped up and tracked down the medicine he needed. Saved the kid’s life. Real heroic type I ‘sppose.”

Hancock chuckled. “I think I know the type,” he said. It had to have been Nate.

The female ghoul picked up the story from there. “It turns out the kid found that hidden vault because that was where the other guy was hiding his chems. That’s why he and his sister skipped out. They didn’t want everyone blaming them.”

“Huh, and I thought vault life was supposed to be all safe and boring,” Hancock joked, earning laughs from the couple.

“The word is this other vault dweller stuck around and helped them clear out the hidden vault. They got it all in livable condition and now quite a few more caravans pass through there. It’s becoming a real social hub, or so they say anyways,” the female ghoul finished, tucking in to her meal.

“Damn, sounds like it’s worth a look-see on that story alone. Thanks for the tip sister.”

Hancock sat by the fire, head swimming with the jet, and mentally made a list of his remaining supplies. It wasn’t a long list and he debated continuing his trek to Bunker Hill first, but curiosity got the best of him. He made up his mind to visit the Vault first and skewed the trajectory of his path from south to west. The next morning he awoke early, thanked the couple for their hospitality, and headed out for vault 81.

Things went relatively smooth on this new westbound journey. It wasn’t until he passed by Monsignor Plaza that he ran into some real trouble. He had run low on, of all things, water, and while seeking some out he stumbled onto a particularly nasty group of raiders.

“I ain’t got any damn caps on me! Save your bullets why don’t ya?” Hancock yelled, slamming into cover behind some rubble. His admission of poverty had done little to deter the raiders and the firefight continued.

“Fine, have it your way!” Hancock growled, drawing his own pistol and dropping the nearest raider. He was able to take a few more out but their numbers didn’t seem to be dwindling. He decided that a hasty retreat would be the best plan of action. He leapt up, took a few shots in their direction and took off for the shelter of an overturned freight truck. From there he cut through an alley but he could tell that the raiders were giving chase.

Exiting the alley he saw a somewhat intact building. He decided he could cut through it or hide in it, but either was preferable to staying out in the open. Hancock kicked the door in and looked around the room. It appeared fairly untouched. He slammed the door shut just in time to hear the wood of the door frame splintering from a gunshot behind him. He threw over a curio cabinet to block the door then took off down the hall. He rounded up some stairs and sprinted down another hall. He chose a room at random and ducked inside. Much to his surprise he nearly collided with a suit of power armor, and the person wearing it.

“Whoa!” Hancock called out slamming into a bedside table instead.

“Oh shit!” spouted the mechanically warped voice from inside the helmet. “Wha-you’re not a-fuck, are they chasing you?”

“Y-yeah, and they’re hot on my ass,” Hancock told the metal man. As he looked for a way out he saw that there was also a woman in the room. She was short, but she had a sturdy looking frame. Her face was smeared with dirt and her wildly curly dark auburn hair stuck out unevenly from her knit cap.

“They’re in the building?” she inquired harshly, readying her gun.

“Sorry about that, this place didn’t _look_ occupied.”

“It wasn’t until you picked a fight with a load of raiders! What the hell?”

Hancock’s brow furrowed, unseen. “I didn’t start it! They cornered me over by the south turnpike and I-”

“They cornered you from the south? They got us from the north. Christ you started a gang war out there!” The woman scolded him, rising up from the floor to check out the window.

“Yeah,” spoke metal man, “And we’re right in the middle of it…We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Ok, there were some more stairs back the way we came. If we can make it to the roof we might be able to head east and-”

“No time!” shouted a voice from the room across the hall. “We fight here.”

“What?” cried the woman. “You can’t be serious.”

“There are two groups down there right? They’ll get caught up trying to shoot each other and we can thin the herd a bit from up here. Lane, Paulie, you cover that side, I got this one,” the mystery voice commanded.

The man in the power armor drew up a nasty looking assault rifle and propped it into the window frame. “You, stranger, go to the other room and cover the hallway. You should have a better view field over there.”

“You’re trusting this guy to cover our asses?” the woman asked, clearly not pleased.

“He’ll do it if he wants to live, and you don’t run like _that_ if you don’t want to live.”

“I got it covered,” Hancock reassured his new allies.

Just then they heard the door smashing down the hall. The raiders had made their way inside from the south.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonight, today, who's keeping track? Hope this isn't awful yet.

“Here they come!” hollered the man, releasing a torrent of bullets out into the street. Hancock looked down the hall to see if it was clear. He shot one of the pursuing raiders in the knee before ducking into the room across the hall. He kept the room to his back and finished off the now crippled man with a shot to the chest. He took one more shot and whiffed, his pistol ammo now spent. He slung his shotgun off his shoulder and loaded it up. He popped a woman brandishing a crowbar in the gut and dropped her too.

Hancock quickly glanced behind him to make sure his unknown teammate was staying on top of things. He didn’t see much in detail. There was a whirl of royal blue fabric and the rhythmic clatter of a powerful combat rifle being fired.

“Everything good over there?” Hancock asked while peeking down the hall to make sure it was still clear of raiders.

A husky female voice answered him back. “Fine. They turned on each other just like I knew they would. Idiots.”

Another door crashed open, this time from the other end of the hall. Hancock whipped around to face the new challengers, but caught a bullet instead.

“Fuck!” he snarled, ducking back behind the door frame. The shot had caught the corner of his gas mask and cracked the visor, but hadn’t touched him.

He executed the two raiders that had made their way inside. More footsteps thundered towards him from behind, there was no time to lick wounds. He hit the approaching enemy primarily in the throat. Blood sprayed across the walls and the man dropped, gurgling for a few moments. He could hear all of the chaos and commotion going on in the street. Muddled panicked shouting bounced off the buildings and echoed down the side streets. Poorly aimed pot-shots sounded off near, then far, then near again.

“They’re massacring each other down there. Looks like the ones from the south are starting to retreat. Check on the others and tell them we’re going to hold this position until things go quiet.”

“Gotcha,” he replied, double checking the hall before moving back across.

“Holding up ok?” he asked the other pair.

The man in the power armor answered him, yelling over the racket of his gun. “All good. Your side?”

“We’re ok. The lady says we’re gonna stay put for a while.”

“Sounds good, I think this place has a basement we can hide out in. We’ll make for the stairs when it’s clear.”

Hancock reentered the north facing room and relayed the message. A few more raiders made their way up the stairs. Hancock took one out but the other two shot each other. After a solid ten minutes of near silence passed the hooded woman lowered her gun.

“I think we’re all good,” she told Hancock before calling out to her companions. “Hey, Paulie, Lane, we’re clear. Let’s get to cover.”

She turned to face Hancock and gestured to his broken headgear. “You ok?”

Hancock sat his shotgun against the wall and looked himself over. “Yeah, still in one piece. Got lucky.”

She raised her hands to the edge of her shroud and lowered its hood. Hancock sucked in a sharp breath of air and struggled to suppress his shock. He, of all people, knew that was it was completely inappropriate to react to someone’s appearance that way, but he simply hadn’t been expecting what he saw before him. Her face was remarkably pale in the faint moonlight, and rift with several deep scars. It was evident something had once attempted to tear her apart. He mentally chastised himself and hoped she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had noticed.

“Sorry,” Hancock mumbled, “I just…just wasn’t expecting that.”

“I don’t care, I’m used to it,” she barked. Hancock fully believed that she was well practiced in _pretending_ that she truly didn’t care, but he knew that part of her cared.

She rooted through a pack sitting by her feet and pulled out a small lantern. She fished out a match from the inside of her glove and struck it on the hand guard of the sword strapped to her hip. The light illuminated the rest of her face and caught the sharp glint of something metallic.

 _A hair pin maybe?_ Hancock thought, squinting through the now split view space of his mask.

 _No, not a hairpin_ , he realized.

The glint had in fact been the woman’s eyes. He could see now that, while the parts of them that ought to have been white had turned a glossy black like the eyes of a ghoul of his caliber, her irises were still extraordinarily visible as they were a cold hard shade of silver.

He shook his head slightly; trying to make sure it was clear.

_What the-am I on something right now?_

But he was at least 62% sure he was sober.

Her hair, wrapped up tight in a topknot and adorned by several tribal looking braids, was stark white. Whiter and cleaner than anything left in the Commonwealth. A single braid spilled out from underneath the left side of the bun and hugged the curve of her cheek. Her bangs hung long and heavy, obscuring her dark brows and lashes. She had meant to hide her eyes and he could tell she was upset she’d slipped up.

_What the hell? A synth?_

But she didn’t look like any synth he had ever seen. Not that he could claim he had seen all that many. At least not with any certainty.

“What..er, who are you?” Hancock managed to get out, doing his best to seem casual and courteous.

She ignored him. Instead she withdrew a cigarette tin from inside her cloak and lit a thin cigar. One of her scars started somewhere behind her choppy bangs and nicked the corner of her right eye before coming to an end. Another, almost in the shape of a y, crossed over the left corner of her mouth. Her lips, drawn up taught, were a matte black.

 _Painted?_ Hancock wondered.

But no color came off on her cigar. They appeared to be tattooed that way. The third scar, undeniably a set of four claw marks, ran from the hinge of her jaw and nearly across the entirety of her throat. Hancock was somewhat morbidly fascinated by the strange combination of details she bore.

Hancock forced a laugh. “The warm and friendly type I see. That’s alright. I find I’m always my own best company anyways. Damn, they sure did a number on this thing huh?” Hancock asked tugging the fabric of the mask out from his coat collar and pulling it off to inspect the broken visor.

“No use crying over spilt raider blood I s’ppose,” he chuckled. He had meant for the statement to be a joke, but the woman wasn’t laughing. She was shaking.

Hancock was used to getting looks of disgust from smooth skins that hadn’t had much exposure to ghouls. If it wasn’t his face that rubbed them the wrong way it was his chem habit, and if that failed, it could always be because he was a politician. Disgust he could handle, hell he could almost understand it. He disgusted himself plenty. What he saw in this woman’s face wasn’t disgust. It was pure terror.

The cigar dropped from her mouth and she drew her pistol with admirable speed. His shotgun was too far to go for; he would never get it in hand before he was shot dead. Even simply moving in the gun’s direction might spook her into pulling the trigger. His body tensed up and he began to sweat. He thought he might be able to knock her to the ground and run for it if he acted at the right moment, but he decided to further assess the situation. Her arms were shaking so badly Hancock wasn’t sure she’d be able to hit him even if he put the gun to his head for her. Her breath was rattling in her chest, making her gasp and cough here and there, and her pupils were dilated with panic and adrenaline. This was the moment. He needed to move or get shot, he knew that, but the shot never came.

“Sil, what the hell? What are you doing? What’s wrong?” cried the other woman rushing into the room. The tin man was right behind her lugging several large bags. Then she spotted Hancock’s face.

“Oh Christ he’s a ghoul. Lane!” she yelled.

The silver eyed woman never responded, never moved. She didn’t even blink.

“Lane, grab him, move him, come on!” she yelled, dropping her own pack and gun, and easing towards the silver eyed woman. Lane grabbed Hancock’s collar and yanked him into the hall. The other woman gently took hold of the gun and slowly coaxed the silver eyed woman to lower it.

“I’ll take care of the ghoul. You fix her.” The tin man said, putting himself between Hancock and the door.

“Take care of me? Heh, I’d like to see you try pal.”

“What? No no, not-not like that. You got it all wrong buddy. Nobody here wants to shoot you.”

“Really? Cause it sure seemed like your friend in there wanted to.”

“I’m awful sorry about that. She…she doesn’t mean anything by it really.”

“Just a harmless little joke then?”

Hancock could see the two women just over Lane’s hulking shoulder. The gun clattered to the floor and a moment later the woman followed with a crash. The curly haired woman located a canteen and offered it to the silver eyed woman. She reached for it but her trembling hands upset the container and sent it to the floor. The curly haired woman cursed and snatched it up again and the silver eyed woman looked even more agitated, pulling her knees up to her chest defensively. Hancock could scarcely believe this was the same woman who had just been killing raiders left and right a moment ago.

“Well, not a joke, but…well it’s like this see, Silverfish doesn’t have anything against ghouls like you, so don’t go thinking she’s just some bigot. She’s just a little…“ghoul shy”. Back in capitol wasteland, there was an incident and she…well, you saw.”

“She’s from Capitol?” Hancock asked, lighting up a much needed cigarette.

“We all are. Grew up in the wastes. Not the worst part but not the best neither. She was…she was just a kid, ya know? When it happened. Don’t know how she lived through it.”

“Then, those scars?”

“Yeah, ferals. Her, Paulette in there, and a neighbor girl were playing out in these ruins. They knew they weren’t supposed to be out there. Paulette says Silverfish blocked their way, helped them escape. She should have died. A team went out lookin' for her, first two days all they found was blood. They all thought the worst but her Pa wouldn’t give up till he had something to bury. Third day she turned up under some rubble. She looked like someone had taken a ripper to her. Christ. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for her.” Lane explained. He let out a long sigh.

“Now, most of the time she’s normal, the same old Silverfish, but if she sees a feral, she loses he cool a bit. Sometimes she just sorta snaps, like when she saw you. So you see, she’s just skittish. You surprised her is all.”

After a brief pause he spoke up again. “I mean, she stopped herself, that has to count for something right?”

Hancock could hear snippets of the conversation the two women were having in the other room in worried whispers.

“What happened Sil? Did he come at you? Did he say something?”

“…No. I just…”

“He just scared you huh?”

“He caught me off guard…”

Hancock scrunched his brow in thought. “It seems to me, that it’s really important to you that I don’t think poorly of your trigger happy little friend in there. Why?”

Lane shrugged and sighed. “Because it just wouldn’t be true,” he finally said. “It wouldn’t be fair to judge her for things she did while not in her right mind.”

“Folks judge a drunk for the things he does when he’s kissin' the bottle don’t they?” Hancock asked, always up for a debate.

“That’s true, but it ain’t the same. Not even close. A drunk asks for the drink, puts it in himself. He made that choice and his actions are a result of that choice. Silverfish didn’t choose this, didn’t ask for it, it was forced on her. That’s why it ain’t the same. That’s why it ain’t fair.”

“You make a good point,” Hancock found himself agreeing. Hancock felt the last of his anger slipping away; honestly he felt a little bad for the woman now.

“Well, she didn’t shoot me, so I guess I can just forget about it. But maybe I ougtta split huh? No need to upset her any more ya know?”

“Oh, she’ll be fine in a minute, once she comes out of the shock. You should stay a bit. Make sure the last of the raiders have cleared out. Plus I’m bettin' Paulie will wanna pay you for your help. She’s a dream like that.”

“Pay? More like bribe,” Hancock said with a grin. Lane laughed.

“Lane,” the curly haired woman, presumably Paulette, called. “Lane we’re going to have to dose her. We need to move and she just isn’t coming back right now.”

Lane tuned to the doorway. “You sure Paulie?”

She shot him a very serious look. She was sure.

“Alright, let me find it.”

Hancock was curious. “Dose her with what exactly?”

“Calm-X. We always keep a little on hand for this sort of situation.”

“Damn, pass it my way will ya?”

“Sorry,” Lane said withdrawing a syringe of purple blue liquid. “Last bit we got and Silverfish needs it.

*

Paulette administered the dose directly into Silverfish’s neck. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, counting backwards from ten. The needle stung and the chem made her feel floaty. She hated the way it made her skin feel all fuzzy like she was suffocating in sweater. But it did eventually make her calm and for that she was thankful. By the time she reached “one” she knew the chem had begun to take full effect. The world began to fall back into place around her. She caught her breath and could make sense of Paulette’s face hovering in front of her. A few moments later she stood and collected her gun. She argued a little groggily with Paulette in whispers until Hancock caught her eye. Shame washed over her and she looked away sharply.

 _Don’t look at me_ , she thought, pressing her palms to her eyes. _Please don’t look at me_.

As if reading her thoughts Hancock turned away, mumbling something about checking the bodies for unspent ammo.

“Are you with me now sis?” Paulette asked her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine. We have to…we have to get going. Forget the basement. I have to get you somewhere safe and I have to find Ellie so we have to-”

“Breathe Sil. We can’t have you panicking again so get your head straight. When Lane comes back we’ll go ok?”

“Yeah, ok. Ok.”

“I’ll…I’ll go ask the ghoul to get outta here alright?”

“No. We need him now. If we split up and they see us they’ll think one of us is easy prey. I don’t care if they go after the loner, but we really don’t need them tailing us. It’s best if we leave together and split up elsewhere.”

“But Sil,” Paulette spoke entreatingly, “Are you sure that you can handle-”

“I said I’m fine!” Silver snapped, brushing past her sister to pick up a duffle bag.

“Yeah, cause you yelling at me is really convincing…Let’s just…Let’s just go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit shorter this time, sorry about that.

“We’re out of here, now!” Silverfish yelled as she stomped past Lane and Hancock, who were stooped over the fallen raiders, hands rifling through pockets.

“You. You’re with us till we make it out of here,” she ordered Hancock without even looking in his direction.

“I don’t recall signing on to this little venture,” he shot back, not taking kindly to being bossed around.

“Well,” the woman began, replacing her hood and checking her pistol, “you’re part of the reason we’re in this mess. The way I see it you owe us.”

Hancock gritted his teeth. He was annoyed that she could be so commanding without even having to stare him down, but he was even more annoyed at the fact that she was sort of right.

“Alright, I can see how you might feel that way. I’ll help you out. Beneficial to us both I s’ppose.”

“Then let’s go.”

She made for the stairs. Paulette was right behind her. Obscenities and worry were practically written across her face. Hancock fell into line behind her, and Lane took up the rear, covering them from a small distance.

Silverfish lead the three of them down the hall to the back stairway in almost absolute darkness. She moved with the precision and silence of a trained soldier, and her skill was enough to make up for the lack of training in the rest of them.

_Silverfish_

Hancock mentally ran the name over his tongue several times. Maybe not the name he would have chosen but this was still America he supposed. It certainly seemed to suit her. Cold, unyielding, and it left a bitter metallic flavor in his mouth. He wanted to spit, but he’d returned the gas mask to his face and thought better of it.

Luckily for the traveling party a hole had been blasted in the wall leading out to a side yard, meaning there was no need to double back to an exit and risk catching the eyes of any survivors. Before exiting through the hole, Silverfish put her hand to Paulette’s shoulder, stopping her short. Hancock managed to stop before colliding with her but the tin man’s chassis thumped him in the back and sent him into her anyways.

“Watch it stranger,” she snarled, a little too loudly.

Silverfish issued a sharp “Shh” and listened to the streets. The pops of pipe pistols weren’t nearly as hot and heavy as they had been a few moments ago, indicating that there were either a lot less of them or that the survivors had all run for cover.

“I think we’re all clear. Let’s snake over a few streets and make east,” Silverfish whispered.

“What about Ellie?” asked Paulette, obvious worry in her voice.

Silverfish pointed her deceptively delicate looking gloved hand out into the dusky horizon. “See those woods over there? I’m pretty sure she ran into them. She should be safe so long as no mongrels get at her. She’s a smart girl, I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll go back for her once we get out of the thick of things here.”

“I don’t know maybe we should just split up now. Lane could go get her and you can take us…wherever.”

“We can’t worry about it now,” she argued. “Let’s move.”

They exited out into the yard and slinked down the block between boarded up houses. Things were relatively quiet aside from the soft clunking of the power armor behind Hancock, until Paulette spoke up.

“I know you’re better with a gun Sil, but you’re not running this show you know? I’m the boss here and I call the shots. You have to respect my input. I really think Lane should go get Ellie.”

Silverfish answered in mock sweetness. “I know you’re the eldest, Paulie, but it’s my job to keep you alive, you know? You need to shut your mouth and keep your head down. I really think you should do that hum?”

“God, I thought Lane gave you Calm-X not Bitch-X. Seriously, would it kill you to be more professional? Or diplomatic? Or-I don’t know- not such a cold bitch?”

“Maybe so. Why risk it? But you know, it literally might kill ALL of us if you don’t stop shouting. So maybe...”

“You’re the one shouting!” Paulette, well, shouted.

“Only so you can hear me over you! You, and now every raider for the next five miles!”

Hancock sighed, but found himself chuckling. He looked over his shoulder and slowed his pace so he was beside Lane.

“Let me guess, they’re always like this?”

“Yeah, on the road at least. Paulie is a worrier and Silverfish doesn’t handle the stress Paulie puts on her too well. They grate on each other in situations like this but they really do care about each other.”

“You know, when I was a kid and me and my older brother got into scrapes, our mum thought it was cute. Back then it boggled my mind. How could she think our attempts to kill each other were cute? But now, well, I kinda see it. They’re darling huh?” Hancock asked Lane with a snicker.

“Cuter that a kitten and a puppy trying to snuggle into the same shoe. Hey, it keeps things lively at least. ”

They came to a narrow side street leading to the east just as they had hoped. After two blocks of walking the hooded Silverfish pointed again.

“Up ahead, three blocks. There is that little library we secured on our way out here, remember? Should still be safe. We can bunker down there for the night and-”

The ping of gunfire interrupted her.

“Cover! Cover!” Silverfish shrieked, pulling Paulette behind a collapsed front porch roof.

Hancock whirled about looking for shelter but came up with only a pathetic over grown shrub. Preferable to standing in the open he ducked down into it. It appeared that Silverfish had been right, and their shouting had attracted a few straggling raiders to their new location. They were no more than six or seven in number, but it was apparent by their body language and their combat formation that they were seasoned players. They were also probably pretty pissed about having so many of their own wiped out, and looking for payback.

“Get lost already!” Lane roared from beneath his helmet. He fired off a few rounds aimed a bit low and non-lethal looking. The raiders didn’t flinch and everything kicked off. Silverfish took down one to the far left and Lane dropped one to the right. Paulette took a few shots but mostly missed and Hancock drew up ready, but at their current range and angle, he couldn’t do much but waste ammo.

The raiders, finding their lower quality weapons to be inferior, decided to move up along the cover of an overturned big rig. They fanned out like a pack of wolves, ignoring their fallen comrades, and moving in for the kill.

Hancock heard a strange clacking sound from where Silverfish had been kneeling followed by a volley of curses and mutterings. He believed they were something along the lines of “not good, not good, not good”. The sound was a tell-tale indicator that her gun had jammed, the sort of common nightmare that occurred on the battlefield that usually meant death. The raiders must have smelled their fear because they somehow knew now was the time to rush them.

Hancock cursed himself under his breath and vacated his only shelter. He fired, not necessarily intentionally, a bit wide, and scattered their attack. They hadn’t seen him coming and practically fell over themselves trying to back pedal. Hancock felt mighty and clever, and all the cocky sort of things one ought to avoid when in battle, and he paid for it immediately. One of the braver ones among the enemies’ numbers regrouped and fired off a clean shot. It ripped right into Hancock’s shoulder.

“Sonovabitch!” he cursed through gritted teeth. He tumbled back behind the shrub and Lane laid down suppressive fire. He clamped a palm over the wound and withdrew it, not at all surprised to see that the wool of his coat had grown damp and dark with blood and his glove slick and red. He lifted his shotgun to his shoulder but he winced in pain and had to lower it again.

“Fuck…Not good.”

“Shit, watch that thing, it’s getting hot,” one of the raiders shouted to the others. This gave Hancock an idea. He inched his way out of cover and peeked glances in their direction. He had been right. One of the pre-war vehicles had caught fire and with a good blow or two it could pop.

“Over here!” A female raider shouted firing in Hancock’s direction.

Hancock stood, swung his gun to level ignoring the pain, and fired. Missed. The kickback of the shotgun combined with his injury dropped him to one knee but he fired again and this time he was rewarded for his perseverance. The car erupted, all but cremating the two raiders that had been standing behind it.

As big and as, well honestly, unintelligent, as Lane might have appeared, the kid knew an opportunity when he saw one. He rushed into the fire and radiation like a berserk gladiator swinging, stomping and shooting. He was the only thing that emerged from the smoke.

Hancock couldn’t see his face, but he’d wager the kid was grinning from ear to ear beneath that helmet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in about an hour I gotta jump on a plane to Hawaii. I'll be there for 11 days so I won't be posting for at least that long. If Hancock inexplicably develops a taste for extravagantly fruity drinks, you now know why.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back! I wrote a lot on my trip and it took a while to organize. I've also just started up an all girls gaming group called Ladies Knight. We hope to soon be making youtube content specifically geared towards female gamers. If you want to know more about it you can follow our Twitter and Facebook page for updates. I'd appreciate it if you did! Hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Silver emerged from her cover, sister in tow, and ordered everyone forward without uttering a single word.

“Are you two alright?” Lane asked the ladies, scooping up his packs yet again.

Yeah, yeah, we’re good I think,” Paulette answered, a bit shaken. “Was anyone hit?”

“Bingo,” moaned Hancock.

“He can bleed when we get to safety,” Silverfish spoke up, finally clearing the jam in her gun. “We can’t do anything for him out here.”

“She’s right,” Hancock hissed through the pain. “Let’s get going while I can still move.”

They continued in silence. Paulette hung close to Silverfish is an almost motherly way. Silverfish reached out to steady Paulette on two separate occasions.

A small wave of dizziness from the blood loss and exhaustion washed over Hancock, but he crushed it down, trying to stay focused on moving.

“There,” Silverfish called. “The library. Tall, narrow windows, lots of cover. We can wait out the night there easy.”

Paulette held up her hand and slowed her pace. “Wait, maybe we should check the perimeter first. We don’t know if anyone has been in there since we left. It could be a trap or more raiders.”

“We don’t have the time,” Silver argued. She sounded exhausted.

“Sil, please, can we just agree on one thing today, please?”

“Paulie, I’m not just being argumentative I swear. I like your plan, it’s a good plan, but that ghoul is bleeding pretty badly and we roped him into helping us, so we have to treat him. We don’t have time for perimeter checks or arguments. Let’s get inside before there is some other disaster ok?”

Paulette pursed her lips in distress and aggravation, but she conceded and they moved on.

Much to everyone’s relief the library was indeed empty when they arrived, and it didn’t look as if it had been disturbed recently either. After securing the exits Paulette began to assess their supplies.

“First things first,” she sighed, removing a medical kit from her back pack. “How bad?”

“Shoulder, not sure how bad but, I don’t think it was a through and through.”

“Yikes. That sounds like surgery you need, not a stimpak.” Paulette glanced from him to Lane nervously before looking to her sister. “Sil, you’re up.”

“He’s standing. How bad could it be?” Silverfish asked plainly. Her voice had a careless chill in it that dug under Hancock’s skin.

“Come on, you said it yourself, he helped us out back there. It’s the least you could do after what you did earlier,” Paulette replied. Her words were cutting.

“He’s the reason we were in trouble in the first place,” Silverfish muttered more to herself than the others. “Alright I’ll put him back together, but he leaves as soon as I’m done.”

The palooka in the power armor twisted off his helmet and gasped in the cool night air. He was obviously handsome, with tanned skin and fluffy blonde hair and near perfect white teeth. He appeared to be some 25 years of age but had strangely boyish features, including large amber eyes and a pair soft pink lips. Hancock had a hard time believing this kid was the murdering machine he had just seen in action.

Paulette shook her head. “We can’t send him out again injured like that. He can stay the night here Sil.”

“Paulette!”

“I’m putting my foot down Silver! I’m the oldest and I’m running this caravan so I’m your boss God damn it. What I say goes. Do you understand me? He can stay if he wants. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“…Fine. Fine,” Silverfish huffed. She cursed under her breath and laid down her rifle. “I need a work space.”

Lane exited the rest of his power armor and set about lighting some lanterns and candles. Both he and the older sister worked to clear off a table and locate some sturdy desk chairs. In the dim light it was now discernible that the blue hooded cape that Silverfish was wearing had once been some sort of velvet. A theater curtain most likely. The cloak was handmade, genuine wastelander craftsmanship. Not shoddy work either. It had been made with care, with love even.

Silverfish removed the cloak, revealing beneath, a long black military style coat with buttons that gleamed the same shade as her eyes.

She opened the medical kit and assessed its contents. “Let’s see then,” she whispered. She set out surgical thread, bandages and a slender pair of hooked tweezers, which all must have been looted from a hospital.

“You,” she addressed Hancock, “sit down over there. Paulie, get him a dose of Med-X if we’ve got it. I can’t work with him squirming around. Lane I need more light here.”

“You a uh…trained medical professional?” Hancock asked taking a seat. He tore away the gas mask and gingerly removed his coat. Paulette helped him struggle out of his shirt. He winced and gritted his teeth each time he had to lift his arm or brushed his shoulder, but he refused to cry out. He still had some dignity to maintain after all.

Silverfish glanced in his direction and shuddered ever so slightly. “What do you think?” she asked. She flicked her bangs out of her eyes. She looked nervous.

Paulette did as her sister asked, sticking Hancock’s shoulder with the Med-X needle and administering the pain blocking chem.

 _Guess that’s a no_ , Hancock thought.

“Silver, come on, what is taking so long?” Paulette griped.

Silver was inspecting her tools and adjusting the lantern light. “Don’t rush me,” she growled.

Hancock’s eyes wandered a bit, and ended up focused on Silverfish’s braid, bouncing against her chest as she worked. It swayed each time she shifted her weight. Hancock thought it looked strong, like rope. He tried to remember the last time he had felt braided hair. He tried to imagine what it would feel like wrapped around his hand. He imagined it felt pretty nice. Everything felt kinda nice now. The Med-X had definitely kicked in.

“Sil, you gotta hurry up, Ellie is out there an if a rad storm blows in I don’t think-”

“Get out!” Silver yelled pointing violently at the door. “I can’t work with you breathing down my neck so just get out! Both of you leave. Don’t come back for at least an hour.”

“You’re freaking her out Paulie, let’s go secure the building…we’ll get Ellie, I promise,” Lane urged.

For the first time that night Paulette appeared to have no fight left in her. She simply shook her head and left the room. Lane clambered back in his power armor and followed after her. Before ducking out of the reading room they had settled down in, Lane shot Silverfish a thumbs up as a token of good luck.

“There…now let me fix you already.”

Silver moved to tuck her braid behind her ear as she peered over Hancock’s wound, but its weight was just enough that it immediately fell forwards again.

“You’re lucky, it doesn’t look too deep. I bet it clipped something else first. Probably fragmented in there though.”

“Seems like you’re used to this sort of work…” Hancock commented, his speech a bit slurred from the drug in his system.

Silver doused the tweezers with moonshine and took a drink for herself. “Lane has been caravanning for my family practically since he could hold a pistol. I’ve been patching him up just as long.”

She paused a moment then shakily continued. “I was…something of a field medic for an outfit back in Capitol Wasteland. Let’s leave it at that alright?”

“Keep me from bleeding to death and I’ll stop asking questions,” Hancock joked.

“Technically, you’ll stop asking questions either way,” Silverfish pointed out. Hancock couldn’t be sure, but he swore he almost heard a note of humor in her tone.

“I’m not going to sugar coat it; this is going to be unpleasant. I have to get all the little bits out so, just try to hold still.”

Hancock nodded and Silverfish set to work. With one hand she firmly held Hancock in place against the back of the chair; with the other she began to prod the wound with the tweezers. Hancock groaned and gripped the edge of the table for dear life.

“I thought so…” Silverfish murmured. “I think I can feel something right-Ah!” she suddenly exclaimed, twisting the tweezers sharply to the right. Hancock roared and slammed his fist down on the table.

“Sit still!” Silver shouted, pushing firmly on his shoulder. “If you move around Ill lose the fragments and it will only take longer, is that what you want?”

She adjusted the tweezers. “Got it,” she sighed with a hint of victory. She pulled a bit forcefully and out slid a crumpled sliver of metal.

Silverfish flung the shard away and wiped the entrance wound with a gauze pad. “Hey, I think you got lucky twice. It looks like the rest of it is intact over here…”

She dug the tweezers in again and Hancock groaned. “Yeah, lucky, that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

Silver fished out the second larger half of the bullet and tossed it away as well. She inspected it a third time but found nothing left to remove and so she began to wash it clean. She splashed it with the moonshine to disinfect it and took another drink. Hancock slammed the table again and could not keep himself from flinching away from the searing hot sting of the alcohol. To distract himself from the burn he decided to do what he arguably did best, talk.

“Can I ask you something?” He prodded while she began to stitch.

“You’re going to keep staring at me until you do so you may as well.”

“I gotta know…what’s your deal?”

“You mean my eyes right?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

“Well…Not just your eyes…”

“Well it’s none of your business.” Her words fell between them like a coin, hard and flat.

“I’m aware of that. And ordinarily I pride myself on my ability to stay out of other people’s business, but you…well…I can’t seem to piece you together.” Hancock let out a short hiss as the needle pricked his skin. Had she done that on purpose?

“From where I’m standing you’re the one that needs piecing together. Besides, you promised you’d stop asking questions if I fixed you.”

“And you thought I was serious?” He asked her with a smirk. She didn’t smile back.

“It looks good,” she announced tying off the thread and cutting it with Hancock’s knife. “It should heal up fine. Your kind heal fast anyways.”

She then bandaged the shoulder, focusing intently on the damaged tissue. She was careful and it was clear she took pride in her work. She made up in gentility what she lacked in actual skill. Hancock was caught a bit off guard by this. These weren’t the rough, callous, and cold hands of the fierce trained gun she had made herself out to be.

Hancock tried to look away and let her work, but he kept finding himself searching for her gaze. The one thing she would not allow him to have. He wanted to be able to read her, to understand her, but his attempts simply bounced off of her.

Silverfish taped off the bandage and stood up from her chair. “There, that should hold you. If you want a second opinion you’ll have to track down a real doctor somewhere.”

“It hurts more now than it did before…” Hancock griped, trying to get a rise out of her.

“That’s a good sign. It means the tissue isn’t dead. Be Thankful,” she replied very matter-of-factly.

She plodded around the room for a moment, as if pacing, then she made for the medical supplies bag. With a carton of passably clean water she washed the swipes of blood from her black gloves. She seemed to contemplate drying them with her blue cloak but thought better of it and simply removed them to allow them to air dry. Hancock still sat at the table recovering, but he was close enough to see that at the ends of her fingers lay thick black nails, filed quite sharp.

“The hell? Your mother a deathclaw or something?” Hancock asked her, reaching for his cigarettes.

Silverfish examined her nails, picking at them with the pads of her fingers. They weren’t particularly long or dangerous looking, but the look on her face told Hancock that his joke had been more mean spirited than he had intended.

“Uh, sorry, I was just foolin with ya,” He muttered, a little embarrassed.

“You really don’t know when to shut up do you?”

“I really don’t, I’m glad you’re catching on.”

Silver tidied up the mess left by the rudimentary surgery and returned the medical supplies to their proper place.

“You know…I can’t help but notice that that didn’t exactly take an hour. I’m feelin that that wasn’t an accident…”

“It wasn’t. I needed them to go. I’m tired…”

“Needed a break from big sis? I get that, she seems…well, like the sort of person you might need a break from.”

“Yeah, that’s part of it alright,” she acknowledged. She rooted though what must have been her own duffle bag for a bit, and to Hancock’s surprise her hand emerged clutching a jet inhaler. Not just any old jet inhaler either. The delivery device was pristine, sterile, not some duct taped second hand raider jet. It had the appearance of a high quality chem.

“Well well,” Hancock said with a gruff chortle, “so it’s that kind of break you needed huh?"

Who would have guessed miss soldier was a casual chem user as well. Hancock looked Silverfish over and found himself just a little more willing to overlook her previous hostility.

“Yeah, not that that’s any of your business either.”

“Hey, far be it from me to judge…Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out to your big sis.”

“What, like to indulge in chems yourself do you?”

“Indulge ain’t the word for it heh heh!” Hancock admitted with pride. “And let me tell you, that sure looks like some seriously good stuff. You don’t by chance feel like sharing do you?”

Silverfish glared at him sternly, though she looked more confused than outraged. “It’s not Jet…at least it isn’t straight Jet. It’s cut with a strong sedative, heavy duty stuff. It's for medical use. I can assure you your reasons for using aren’t at all similar to mine. Don’t go thinking they are.”

“You…You need another hit of that?” Hancock asked, trying to dress himself with out burning himself with his now lit cigarette.

“Need, want, what’s the difference…”

Hancock stood from the table somewhat abruptly and shifted in his boots. He was getting angry but he couldn’t place the exact reason. He wasn’t easily made to feel upset, but he couldn’t deny the creeping feeling of guilt that was slowly settling in his stomach. Just what did he have to feel guilty for anyways? He hadn’t done a thing to this woman. How was she making him feel so damn unnecessarily apologetic?

*

Silverfish threw herself into a dusty reading chair. She let her legs hang over the arm and her head loll against the chair’s high back. She raised the inhaler to her lips and sucked in the sedative. She held it in her lungs until she could feel the drug buzzing in her head. The truth was she couldn’t tell if she had needed the chem to calm down, or if she had simply wanted it. She had wanted anything that could tear her mind from the ghoul in the room.

She counted again, taking a deep breath between each number. Ten to one, always from ten to one, the other way around didn’t seem to work. When the Jet cocktail had zipped down into her fingers and toes, and when her head was sufficiently floating with clouds, she let out an enormous sigh.

For the first time that night her eyes met Hancock’s. Glassy and with heavy lids, she at last truly felt as calm as the drug had promised.

*

“Well you sure look better,” Hancock mused while examining the blood stains on his borrowed winter coat. He was met with silence.

“Hey, I know I kinda kicked a stingwing nest into your path with those raiders back there, and…and I know fixing me up wasn’t easy for you either, so I wanna say thanks. So uh…Thanks Silverfish. It is Silverfish right?” Hancock asked, though he knew full well that it was.

Another bout of silence was all that Silver returned to him and he was about to give up and leave the room out of frustration when at last she decided to speak again.

“Most people back home just call me Silver, so...that’s fine too.” Her tone had been nervous but not cold. It was possible it was only a side effect of the chems, but Hancock saw it as an opportunity to finally get some answers.

“So that woman, Paulette, she’s your sister?”

“I feel we’ve established that…”

“Sorry, I just don’t exactly see the familial resemblance there…”

“We aren’t blood related, if that’s what you’re getting at,”

“You don’t say?” He laughed.

Silver stretched and adjusted her position in the chair. “Paulette’s parents took me in, back in Capitol Wasteland. They’ve been taking care of me for as long as I can remember.”

“I see.”

That was one mystery solved. Hancock had a hard time believing that anyone’s parents would go from something relatively simple like Paulette to something flashy like Silverfish, so perhaps it was a name given to her before being taken in, or a name she had given herself. It made sense enough.

“And the big fella in the tin can?”

“Lane? What about him? You pretty much just addressed every aspect of him worth talking about.”

Hancock grinned at her peevishly. She was a dodgy little thing but he would nail her down yet.

“Is he your beau or somethin?”

“I’ve known Lane almost my whole life. His family lived right next to ours in Capitol. He’s a good shot and he’s good with his hands. He repaired that old suit of power armor all by himself.”

The chem had made her loose, if not chatty. Just what Hancock had hoped for.

“But is he your beau?” Hancock teased.

Silver snorted. “It’s not as simple as all that, but no, he isn’t.” She took another hit of the Jet and lazily let the canister slip from her fingers and tumble into her lap.

“Hey, if you’re looking to not get caught with that you may want to take it easy. I’m sure Lane won’t be back for an hour because he seems as obedient as a dog, but your sister seems…efficient…and a little protective. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came back kinda early.”

“Shh…you’re ruining it…” was all she could slur out.

Hancock gave a low chuckle and decided to leave her to her trip.


	5. Chapter 5

Hancock wandered among the bookshelves, mostly empty now, looking for anything still legible. Entertainment was a scarce commodity in the “wealth”. Now, fortunately there wasn’t exactly much down time for the average joe, what with fending off rad beasts and raiders, but it was always good to have something on hand. Hancock prided himself on being well read and of sharp wit, and had read many pre-war texts. The novels were nice, but often they were lengthy and slow, and combined with the chems they put him right to sleep most nights. He preferred the few tattered periodicals that had survived the fury of the bombs. Short, simple, and easy enough to remember even on a Jet trip. And after all, as the Mayor, he was a busy man.

He found mostly half charred biographies, but on the next shelf he found an unburnt book of poetry. He pulled a face that would have been akin to scrunching up his nose in distaste, had he a nose to scrunch. He opened the book anyways and thumbed over the index. He recognized a few of the names but one in particular he remembered clearly. T.S. Eliot. Poetry wasn’t exactly Hancock’s pick either, but he had enjoyed some of Eliot’s work, most of all The Love Ballad of J. Alfred Profrock.

It only made half an ounce of sense to him, and only after a Mentat or two, but he located the poem in the tome and mouthed over the lines in the low lamplight regardless. He always wondered just who the “ladies” were and who this Michelangelo was they couldn’t stop going on about. He certainly couldn’t fathom how old Eliot had reckoned the poem was a love ballad. There were references to pre-war culture that he didn’t understand, but he didn’t feel he really needed to understand them to appreciate the poem. He read over the last passage of the poem with extra care.

_I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each._

_I do not think that they will sing to me._

_I have seen them riding seaward on the waves_   
_Combing the white hair of the waves blown back_   
_When the wind blows the water white and black._   
_We have lingered in the chambers of the sea_   
_By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown_   
_Till human voices wake us, and we drown._

“Yeah, same here buddy…” Hancock mumbled, placing his nearly extinguished cigarette between his lips.

Though the last stanza was a bit more whimsical than some of the others, Hancock felt that he understood it the most. He wasn’t sure he understood what a mermaid was, but from what he had gathered they were sort of beautiful. He could relate to the old man and the mermaids not singing, and the dreams and the drowning.

He read a few of the other poems but he tired quickly. Even with his limited understanding of the work, poetry always seemed to him, a sorrowful affair, meant for deep thinkers and bleeding hearts, not for pill munching wasteland warriors like him. He gathered the readable books together on a shelf and knocked the rest to the floor. He figured he may as well save whoever came through here after him the trouble.

Several shelves away, he found a book about a detective with a funny name. Sherlock Holmes. Hancock wasn’t sure if he had heard the name before but even if the book turned out to be boring, he could always give it to his old pal the detective, Nick Valentine, so he stashed it in his pack. He rummaged through a few old desks but found nothing more interesting than some pens and paper and an old watch that had long ago stopped ticking.

Having just recently been shot, it was no surprise that even the mundane task of snooping through the library was becoming exhausting for him, and Hancock thought it best if he returned to resting now. He took the time to peer out a few of the windows on his way back to the sitting area. One could never be sure they were really safe in the Commonwealth. Even at home in Goodneighbor he made a habit of looking out the third floor windows of the state house to see beyond the walls, just to be sure things really were as quiet as they seemed.

The streets were empty.

Hancock returned to where Silverfish sat, dozing after dosing, and took a seat himself. The fabric of the chair smelled musty, but it wasn’t yet rotted. After a short while he heard the tromping of boots over his head and was fairly sure it was Paulette finishing her rounds and making her way back.

“Pst, Hey!” he whispered harshly. “Best get up, big sis is nearby.”

Silver jerked awake violently, kicking her foot into what once must have been a decorative plant and turning it over on the table.

“Wha…Paulette?” Silver murmured, quite dazed.

“On her way I think.”

Silver quickly roused herself and stood, teetering. Hancock sensed her instability and rose from his own seat. Paulette could be heard descending the stairs. Silver lunged forward to retrieve the chem canister that had fallen onto the floor, but she immediately jerked backwards with her hand on her forehead. A nearly silent moan escaped her and she wobbled on her feet, nearly colliding with a shelf of “how to” books. Hancock’s hand shot out reflexively to steady her, catching her by the elbow. In shock Silver raised her eyes to meet Hancock’s. Briefly her eyes ceased to appear hard and steely, and instead held an almost a childlike quality.

“Um…T-thanks,” she stuttered, her body as trembling as her voice. She wrenched her arm away in an almost violent panic.

Hancock said nothing in return to the woman as he had chosen to study her eyes instead. He didn’t know when, if ever, he would get a chance to see them again. He admired the gray disks of her irises. They were almost two toned in the candle light, notched with dark gunmetal lines that contrasted with the softer silver shades. The longer he stared the more luminous and labyrinthine they appeared.

Paulette entered the room and found them standing this way.

“Is…Everything ok?” she asked, sounding rather skeptical that things actually could be ok.

“F-Fine.” Silver answered in almost military fashion.

“Groovy,” Hancock said, backing her up.

“Well that’s good to hear. I was a little worried I’d come back and find one of you dead down here. Glad to be wrong for once.”

“No casualties here, except that tennis career I was always planning on starting,” Hancock joked, mock patting his wounded shoulder.

“Well then, uh, I’m guessing you’ve already got our names figured out. I was wondering if maybe you had one?”

“John. Hasn’t been used in a while, but it’s John.”

Hancock extended his hand and Paulette shook it firmly.

“Alright then, John. Will you be staying here for the night?”

“Well, given the gunshot wound and my lack of Stimpacks, I’d sure appreciate a good night’s rest. If you don’t mind…”

“Sure, I’d actually prefer you stayed the night. Safety in numbers right? You can sleep down here with Lane, we’ll take the annex upstairs.”

Hancock smirked. “I hope he’s a cuddler.” 

Paulette gave up a snort of a laugh and Silver allowed her expression to soften from stony to simply tired.

Paulette opened her mouth to ask Silver something but stopped mid syllable and almost gagged on her swallowed down words. Her face flushed dark red and her auburn brows pinched together tightly.

“What’s that?” she asked pointing at the Jet inhaler still on the floor. Her eyes shot to Silver and glared at her with insurmountable hostility. “Is that yours?”

“It-It was here already. Just sitting there…”

Hancock visibly winced. This was going to get ugly.

“I don’t remember seeing it here before, or when we cleared this place…Silver…”

Hancock mentally smacked himself and reached down for the Jet. “That would be mine ma’am, I just dropped it a moment before you came back. Your sister here was just trying to cover for me.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes ma’am. Didn’t know if you’d take too kindly to letting a chem user stay the night…”

Silver was evidently stunned into silence, because she said nothing else to further Paulette’s interrogation. She did manage to keep her face from betraying her shock.

“Well…if you say it’s yours I can’t exactly call you a liar. Just keep your chems put up while you’re here alright?”

“Can do.”

Paulette sighed. It looked like she felt a little guilty for her outburst, but she also looked like she still had her doubts about who the canister belonged to. It didn’t seem her problem was with chem use, but rather with her sister using specifically.

“You hungry kiddo?” Paullette asked, putting her hand on Silver’s back.

“Yeah…sure.”

“I’ll see what we have here then, sit tight.” Paulette then addressed Hancock. “Joining us for dinner?”

Hancock almost bashfully rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. “Only if you have enough to spare. You folks don’t owe me dinner.”

Paulette waved her hand in a gesture that read “perish the thought”, and began to remove her traveling garments. “There’s plenty, don’t worry. So John, what brings you out this way? You don’t look like any sort of scavenger or trader, and you haven’t shot us all dead yet so I figure you’re not a raider. Just traveling?”

“Give the lady a prize.”

So Paulette was a talkative gal, Hancock appreciated that, and fully planned to use it to his advantage.

Paulette nodded.“Thought so. Where you off to? There isn’t much around here worth visiting…”

“I’m trying to make Vault 81 in the west there. Not making the best time though…”

“Get out!” Paulette exclaimed in surprise. “That’s where we’re headed!”

“You don’t say…Now ain’t that funny. Like fate or something huh?”

“What’s in 81 for you?”

“Well…actually…I heard that folks there might have an influx of unwanted chems. You wouldn’t happen to know if there is any truth to that would you?”

Several thoughts seemed to cross Paulette’s mind before she settled on simple acceptance. “You’re after the De Luca’s chem stash huh? Well, that I believe…Yeah it’s still there.”

“The overseer seized it. She hasn’t decided what to do with it just yet,” Silver cut in almost distractedly.

“Huh…well from what I hear Vault 81 rarely turns away a fast load of caps so, we’ll see what I can come up with I guess. Why are you all headed there? Part of your trade route?”

“Well, it is but…we live there too,” Paulette took over.

Hancock raised the scared skin, that once was an eyebrow, in intrigue. “You’re vault dwellers? All three of you?”

“Only just recently. Last month. It was just good timing is all,” Silver cut in again. This time it seemed she only wanted to silence her sister. “Our folks were getting too old to keep roughing it with the caravan all the time. We had done some trading with 81 before and we heard they had recently expanded their living quarters. We worked out a trade agreement and got mum and dad a place to settle down. Now Paulie and I handle the caravan. She’s the brain and I’m the gun. Lane is hired help but he has worked with us so long he’s practically family. So, we may live in a vault, but I’d say we’re a far cry from vault dwellers.”

Paulette began unpacking one of the packs Lane had been carrying and sorted through various food items. “Looks like Pork n’ Beans and Instamash tonight.”

Silver pulled a face that clearly indicated disgust and shook her head.

“Oh that’s right, you don’t eat beans. Ok I can stew you up come carrots instead. And there is plenty of dried squirrel left right?”

“Thanks Paulie,” Silver said, with something close to a smile on her lips.

Paulette drew out a home made kitchen knife and set to work peeling the carrots. “So John, where abouts are you from?”

“Oh uh, south of here a ways.”

“Not the slog? No offense but most of the ghouls in this area are from the slog up north. Good people, friendly, but…well we avoid it when we can…for Sil’s sake. You got family down south then?”

“Not exactly, it’s more like we’re all one big family.” Hancock knew he was getting a bit too close with that one, but no one seemed to be paying him much attention.

“Well now, isn’t that nice,” Paullette hummed, focused on her peeling.

Silver moved away to watch out the window. She drew out her metal cigar tin and lit another one of those thin cigars with the rancid sent.

“Anything I can do to help? I ain’t exactly the culinary sort but I could do…something…” Hancock offered.

“You sit down and rest, we don’t want those stitches going to waste,” Paulette replied.

Hancock sighed with a bit of relief and settled down in a reading chair. “No ma’am, we don’t.”

“Well John,” Paulette said to stir the silence, “since we’re headed the same way, I don’t see why we should split up. You’re welcome to make the rest of the trip to 81 with us. Like I said, strength in numbers.”

“Paulie, are you trying to talk this poor guy into gunning for you? Are you at least gonna pay him?” Lane asked from the hallway.

Hancock and Paulette both jumped a bit. He sure was quiet for a hulking golem of metal. Someone ought to tie a tin can to him. His armor actually made him a little too big for the doorway and he had to turn to the side a bit and shuffle into the room that way.

“Perimeter?” Silver asked, her head cocked to the side with cigar smoke shooting out from between her dark lips. A sour odor permeated the room. Hancock swore he recognized it but couldn’t seem to place it.

“All doors locked or barricaded and all holes covered up and trapped. No ferals in sight.”

“Basement?”

“Basement too. It’s all clear boss, Relax.”

“I’ll relax when we make it home,” Silver said, a slight growl in her words.

“Well,” Paulette spoke up with evident impatience, “Lane is back. Seems to me all we are missing is Ellie…”

“Ellie, you mentioned her before, she one of your group?” Hancock asked, brushing clean a table for Paulette to use. “Did you get separated?”

Both Paulette and Lane laughed while Silver simply shook her head in an amused fashion.

“Oh Ellie is one of us alright, and yes we got separated. Ellie is our pack brahmin. When the raiders started firing Silver drew her away towards the woods. We meant to take cover there but then we could hear the shots coming from the other side and Ellie took off. You pretty much had the full attention of the scumbags so we’re pretty sure Ellie made it to the woods alright,” Paulette explained.

“We can’t just leave her out there all night. If something gets after her she’ll get spooked and run off. We might never find her if that happens. I’ll go get her. You all just stay here and try not to start another fire fight with any locals.” Silver said, stamping out what was left of her cigar on the windowsill.

It then occurred to Hancock that Silver had just taken in an almost inordinate amount of chems. She was a tall woman, almost taller than he was, but she was by no means a large woman. Even under the heavy coat she wore her thin lithe frame was discernible. The chems were sure to still be in her system. What’s more, she looked unstable. Sending her out alone didn’t seem like the brightest idea. Sure, she hadn’t been the friendliest, but she had fixed him up free of charge, and her group hadn’t been too angry with him for getting them ambushed. They seemed like good people.

He decided he wasn’t comfortable with letting her walk out into the big bad common wealth alone with a head full of Jet, but he also didn’t want to tattle on her. She’d never share any of it with him then.

“Wait,” Hancock interjected, “I’ll go with you.

“Whoa whoa, I don’t need anyone getting under my feet out there. Just stay put,” Silver bucked, obviously surprised by the offer.

“Yeah,” Paulette agreed, “I’m not so sure that sounds like a good idea…”

“Look, I’m not gonna gut her out there, and I have confidence that she won’t gut me. It’s always a good idea to have a second pair of eyes out there,” Hancock argued, trying his damnedest to sound casual.

“Well then let Lane go with her. You’ve already been shot once today, you really ought to rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you ma’am, I’d like to go myself.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with a stranger Paulie, are you crazy? No way,” Silver said, frustration mounting in her voice.

Lane looked Hancock over curiously. “She fix you up good? I knew she would. Let ‘em go Paulie. They’ll be fine.”

Lane seemed the simple type, but Hancock was getting the feeling that in his simplicity, he saw little things others missed. He certainly seemed to sense that he and Silver needed to be left alone for more serious matters than recovering a lost Brahmin.

“Alright ok, jeeze, some days you just can’t win one huh? Just go bring my cow back already,” Paulette ordered waving her knife. “Lane, let’s get a fire going in here.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I just recently started Dragon Age and I've fallen desperately in love with Alistair! I may have to start another fic lol  
> Additionally my anxiety has had a flare up so I haven't been fit to write much. I'll get back to it when I can. Thanks for reading!

Despite the biting cold Silver’s palms were sweating. The roof of her mouth itched, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled, but her heart had stopped racing. She was walking no further than eight paces behind a ghoul, an honest to god walking mound of living scar tissue and bone, but she had forced her heart to be steady. Her footing on the other hand, was not as steady as she would have liked, but it hadn’t failed her just yet.

Not only was it bitter cold but it had begun to rain. The chill was settling into Silver’s bones and she could feel her teeth on the verge of chattering. She was fighting it off though, in an attempt to keep the ghoul from starting up another conversation. He clearly liked to talk, but his voice was haunting to her. Rolling and smooth ground up with gravel and barbed wire. Something human but not.

She didn’t like his presence, not one bit, and it wasn’t only because he was a ghoul. More frightening than that, he was a stranger, an unknown. A stranger and what’s more, a man, which had so far, only proven that he was good in a fight. Silver was understandably wary.

He was good at dodging questions too. Surely he hadn’t left whatever place he might call home in search of the De Luca’s chems. Sure they had been heavy users and Tina had left plenty of Jet behind, but it was no fantastic treasure trove worth traveling across nearly the entire commonwealth for. What was he really out here for? It worried her.

And how had it come to be they had run into each other with the same destination? She didn’t really suspect that this ghoul was truly up to anything sinister, but it was strange none the less. It deeply worried her. She wished he would leave.

As if to spite her, her teeth began to chatter. Right on cue, the ghoul spoke.

“Damn cold out. Bitter damn cold out here, Christ. You look frozen. I mean, your uh…your pallor doesn’t exactly give off a ‘warm’ feeling anyway, but you look even colder. You alright?”

“It’s just a little rain. Worry about yourself,” Silver hissed. Had she at all been unclear with him? She didn’t want to talk. He was infuriating. So infuriating she could no longer hold her tongue.

“What the hell are you even here for?” Silver barked.

“Like I said, two pairs of eyes-“

“Bullshit! Why are you out here in the freezing cold with me? Do you want my Jet? Do you think we’ll somehow become buddies and I’ll share? No, probably not, you don’t seem that dumb to me. Are you trying to guilt trip me…about earlier? Or maybe you just want to prove to us all how tough you are? Taking a bullet and soldiering on like this, is that it? There’s no reason for you to be here.”

John stopped in his tracks and turned to face Silver. He appeared a bit stunned despite the gas mask covering his face.

“Look,” he began, “I just want to help you find your brahmin and get you back to your sister alive. That was some serious chem you took and even an old junkie like me can admit chems and guns rarely mix well together. That’s why I’m here. It sure isn’t for your good company.”

Silver shot him her sharpest glare. “Why the fuck do you care? I’m supposed to believe that? Why should I trust you?”

“It’s not that I out-n’-out care, it just seems like the thing I ought to do. You ain’t gotta trust me. I ain’t askin you to. If you wanna keep your guard up that’s fine. You wanna sleep with one eye open? Be my guest. You won’t offend me none. But you could stop harassing me about it. If I overstep my boundaries with you and yours, you put a bullet in me. Till then, you ought to ease up. Sound fair?”

“I…” Silver wanted to mount a verbal counter attack, but the words wouldn’t come. She sighed, blowing her bangs about her face wildly.

“You’re right…you’re right. I’m being…over aggressive. You’re being fair. Let’s go ahead and play it your way.”

“Well now, that’s awfully congenial of you. ‘Preciate it. Now let’s find us a spooked brahmin.”

Silver felt weak, but worse than weak she felt pathetic and small. She had let her fear get the best of her again. It was a difficult pill to swallow, having to work so close to the thing she feared most in the world, but she saw the value of their temporary partnership and couldn’t very well send him away into the danger of the night. He was still, more or less, a human being after all.

She swallowed down her fear and panic, and forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

“Over here,” she said, pointing the barrel of her rifle into the darkness. “Broken branches.”

She and John moved closer to the damaged trees.

“See any tracks?” he asked.

“Don’t need any. Look at the height of these branches. The damage is too wide for one person and too high for a dog, this is Ellie.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

John extended his hand forwards in indication for her to pass him. “Lead the way then. Your cow, your call.”

“R-right…thanks…this way. By those brambles, look for somewhere that looks dry. Ellie doesn’t care for the rain.”

“Got it.”

They spread out to search. The vice that had been constricting Silver’s lungs had loosened and she could breathe a bit easier. The rain was starting to soak through Silver’s coat and her teeth clattered painfully against each other.

“Hey, it’s dark, but I’m pretty sure these are brahmin hooves over here,” John called.

Silver followed the sound of his voice and nearly ran smack into him.

John moved forward. “Looks like…this way?”

They sloshed through the icy mud in silence. Mostly, because the howling wind would have made any conversation difficult, but also because Silverfish preferred the silence.

“Oof!” John bellowed as he was sent sprawling to the ground.

A surprised but soft “moo” rose from where he fell.

“What the…”

“Hey there Ellie…” cooed Silver, stooping down. “You ok girl?”

John stood and brushed himself off as best he could. “Damn dumb animal…” he grumbled.

“You found her, good work.”

“You train her to lie down like that?”

“Paulie did. Smart huh? Keeps her hidden when we get separated like this.”

“Yeah, pretty smart, provided you don’t find her with your damn feet.”

Silver patted the sleepy brahmin on the neck. She smiled a bit. She had always liked Ellie. About six years ago they had had to put down their old pack brahmin, Doris. Doris had been a moody fussy cow, and above all she had been stubborn. Ellie was by and large an improvement. Ellie was understanding and gentle natured, and everything people seemed not to be.”

“She alright?” John asked after awhile.

“Huh?” Silver mumbled, snapping to attention at the sound of that harsh voice of his.

“The brahmin, is she hurt or something?”

“Oh-uh…let’s see. Ellie, time to get up girl.” Silver slapped the brahmin’s flank and roused her to her feet. One of her heads grunted and the other chewed lazily.

“She looks just fine. This pack is coming lose though…”

“Here, lemme help,” John offered, slinging his shotgun over his good shoulder and taking hold of the loosened knot. “You hold, I’ll pull it tight.”

Silver scrambled to support the slipping pack. “Oh-ok-I…thanks.”

“Look at us, working as a team,” the ghoul ribbed her, tying off the knot.

“Yeah…hey…” Silver practically whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say…I want to apologize for earlier, in the office building. I…I was taken by surprise and I acted without thinking clearly. I wasn’t myself. It was a mistake on my part and I…I’m sorry. I know you didn’t ask to look like that, and you ghouls have it hard enough out here without people like me…so, I’m sorry. That’s all.”

Her voice and her body were shaking, not just from the cold now. Silver knew she didn’t exactly handle people well, and it was hard for her to admit when she was wrong, but tonight had been by far a new low for her. Things hadn’t been this bad before the vault.

She glanced at John quickly from the corner of her eye. It didn’t seem like him to stay quiet for so long. He appeared to be contemplating her words, turning them over and inspecting their merit in his head. Silver tried desperately to hold his gaze in an attempt to prove her sincerity, but she could not stop her eyes from darting away.

She had never liked making eye contact, not even with her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were frightening, she had been made aware of that, and she used them most often as weapons against those she had to intimidate. The rest of the time, she kept them from the sight of others. What’s more, under that mask, there was a ghoul, whose eyes were more frightening than her own. No, she could not match his gaze, even then.

After what felt like an eternity the ghoul spoke.

“You know, my older brother and I grew up on a tato farm here in the “wealth”. My brother used to pick up the rotten ones, drop ‘em down the back of my shirt, then slap my back for good measure. The mess was enough on its own, but even worse was the smell. Never could get rid of it, let me tell ya. And do you know, to this day, I still hate tatos.”

Silver shifted nervously, unsure of what to make of his story. She decided to be patient and hope that he would elaborate. His love of speaking ensured that he did.

“My point is that, while my own experience wasn’t exactly as traumatic as yours, I understand how a messy childhood can turn you into a messy adult. You don’t have to dwell on it, as far as I’m concerned, we’re square. I ain’t the type to hold petty grudges. Well, actually, I am…I must be feeling generous tonight.”

There was a hint of laughter in his voice. He laughed easier than most people in the Commonwealth.

“Lane…” Silver sighed in pain. “He told about the ferals in capital…of course he did. Look, I didn’t…I didn’t apologize to save face or whatever…I truly am sorry for, well, being me.”

“I know you are doll,” he cut her off. “It’s written all over your face. Like I said, we’re cool.”

Silver cringed at hearing his twisted voice call her by a pet name, but she let it slide.

“Thanks,” She whispered. Yelling and near silence seemed to be the only two settings her voice had this night.

They marched back towards the library with Ellie in tow. The rain had let up to a drizzle which was a small comfort, but the real trouble was the mud. Brahmin were sturdy durable animals, but grace, speed, and agility were not among their natural traits. This meant that traversing the hills of the woods, covered in slick piles of dead leaves and patches of mud, made for slow and difficult transit. Silver did her best to be patient with the cow and was sure not to pull on her lead rope too hard. John helped by pushing her along, but Silver warned him to be careful not to pull his stitches and repeatedly pushed him out of the way and pushed the cow herself.

“All this trouble…for one damn brahmin…you know this is ridiculous right?” John puffed.

“It’s part of the job.”

“It’s not quite as glamorous as putting down raiders is it?” he joked, stopping to catch his breath.

“Hey…John,” she said his name soft, as if it were some ill omen. “I have a question.”

“Oh? You’re asking me questions? Now ain’t that a surprise.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m surprised myself.”

“Well, go on then.”

“R-right. Earlier you said you grew up here in the Commonwealth.” Silver paused. She hoped the ghoul would detect the nature of her question and fill in the blank without prompting but he was either not perceptive enough to understand this, or disinterested in helping her.

“Was there a question in there somewhere?” he eventually asked.

“Where did you live?”

“My folks’ farm, like I said. Not far from Diamond City.”

“S-so you’re not pre-war.”

“Oh I see…nah, I wasn’t kicking before the bombs.”

“Then, may I ask…how did you…”

“How did I get this handsome face?”

Silver didn’t answer. She wanted to know, deeply, but she was also afraid to know. She didn’t want to hear some horrible tale of being trapped in some place full of radiation, or someone’s sick experiments with the stuff. She knew those sorts of things went on from time to time, it was generally how new ghouls came to be. It was also true that sometimes raiders would subject themselves to the rads on purpose to turn ghoul. Silver assumed they did it for the added benefits of strength and longevity, if they survived anyways. John didn’t seem the type for that, which left the tales of horror.

“I get it, you want to get in on my beauty secrets right?” John asked her with one of his haunting coarse laughs. “Well to put it simply, I was kind of a wild kid. Bad attitude, always thought I knew best, just, a real ass ya know? And very liberal with chems. Well, half of that is still true, but anyways…I came to call Goodneighbor my home away from home. Snuck off just about any chance I got, looking for any kind of trouble I could get. There was…some family dysfunction…that eventually ran me off to Goodneighbor for good. I started looking for any chem that would fix me.”

“A chem did…did that to you?”

“Not just any chem, it was some experimental radiation based drug, see? I couldn’t even tell you what it was called or where the hell the guy found it. Not that I cared at the time. It was just one hit, but let me tell you, it sure packed one hell of a punch. The guy that sold it to me warned me that it had some…unsavory side effects, but I didn’t care. The high, oh boy am I lucky there was only one hit, because I would have chased that high into my own grave. Nothing even compares. Anyways, when I finally came out of it, the rads were already hard at work. When the week was out, I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I guess I got what I wanted huh?”

“Did it fix your problems?”

John shrugged. “You know, for a while, I think I convinced myself that it did. But chems don’t fix things; they’re just a great distraction.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not even close. Blue eyes and a nose seem like a light price to pay for immortality, don’t you think?”

Silver sighed and tried to keep the pang of sorrow out of her voice. “I don’t know. I’d just about kill to have plain old blue eyes…”

“That right?” John mumbled. Things got quiet.

They had made it back to the main road and the little lending library was in sight just down the block. Silver was relieved that some of the tension she had felt had been worn away by their agreement, but she worried she had let their conversation end on a bad note. She watched the ghoul for any signs that he had noticed this. He was leading again, his pistol loaded up with borrowed bullets.

This was more than she had spoken to anyone in months. Had it always been so exhausting? But of course it hadn’t been. She remembered being on the road with her parents and Lane, and Lane’s father. She remembered listening to her father tell tales of the war, scraps of history he had read and collected over the years. Lane’s father told jokes. Things had been easy then.

Back in Capital no one seemed to notice her eyes. Everyone was too busy killing each other or trying to not be killed. It was a brutal hell, but it was simple. It wasn’t this.

To discern if she had undone any of the progress she had made deescalating things between her and the ghoul, she spoke again.

“So you’re from Goodneighbor huh? Paulie wouldn’t like that. You’re not hiding anything else are you? You covered for me with Paulie so…I’ll try to keep you out of her cross-hairs if I can.”

John stopped and turned to face Silver. “Well so far you’re the only one that’s drawn on me…but yeah, I gotcha. Guess I may as well tell you now. I’m not just some junkie from East Boston. You have the fine pleasure of speaking with Goodneighbor’s commander in chief. Lucky you right?” His voice was drenched in pride.

“What?” Silver huffed in annoyance and shock.

“Mayor John Hancock at your service miss.”

The ghoul gave a courteous little bow, and despite the ridiculous situation, Silver found herself believing his words.

“You’re the ghoul of Goodneighbor?”

“Ya know, I never got that one, it’s not like I’m the only ghoul there…”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I find that hard to believe. From what I’ve heard Mayor Hancock is a slobbering, blood thirsty, brute of a man. You don’t exactly fit that description.”

John snorted in feigned offense. “Well, people do love to demonize politicians. And that slobbering thing only happened once. Twice at the most. Med-X ya know? So you heard all that already huh? Is someone running a smear campaign against me? Difficult thing to do in a town like Goodneighbor.”

Silver began to feel flustered. She stroked the brahmin’s back, this time to soothe herself.

“You can’t be Mayor Hancock,” she put forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Why not?” Hancock asked with a chuckle. He was eating this up, she just knew he was.

“Because first of all, why the hell would the mayor be this far from his town? And second, that would mean I pulled a gun on the mayor of fucking Goodneighbor!” Silver bellowed. She promptly covered her mouth. The last thing she wanted was to attract any more attention to them this night.

“Well, believe it, or don’t, I didn’t want you all to know anyways. Easier that way I think.” Hancock began to move again and Ellie, keen on picking up who was leading, began to follow.

“Goodneighbor…I can’t believe I missed that…”

“It’s the hat. Throws people off when they see me without it. Honest mistake really,” Hancock joked.

Silver gave up a girlish giggle. “A hat? That’s right, I think I’ve heard of your hat…”

Hancock turned around again and looked Silver over. “A laugh huh? Well that’s a nice change. Yeah, I think I can work with a laugh.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, kind of a slow chapter, but I didn't think I could skip it either. Next chapter should be more interesting! Should be up much quicker as well.

Interestingly enough, Brahmin can walk up stairs, but not down them.

Silver voiced her concern about the small library having several steps leading to its front doors, but upon returning to the building they found that the earth sloped gently on either side of the steps and it was easy enough to get Elllie inside the main foyer of the building. They unloaded her trunks and other cargo, and silver fed her a few handfuls of some mixed grains.

“You sure it’s ok to let this thing in here all night?” Hancock asked, removing his gas mask and scratching behind one of his radiation chewed ears.

“Sure, she’ll stay warm and dry, and…and she’s less likely to attract any ferals in here than out there.”

“Right…sounds good then.”

Silver unhooked her cloak and let it drape over her shoulders sloppily. “We best go tell Paulie we got her cow back safe and sound.”

“Good call, besides, I’m starving. Your sister a good cook?”

Silver pursed and wriggled her lips for a moment in thought. “She does alright, I mean, it is road food, so…how good could it be anyways? She does better at home where supplies are a bit more regular, but she’s not as good as mum.”

“No one is ever as good as old mom though, trust me. So hey, it just occurred to me…”

“That your idle prattle is keeping us from eating?”

“That you know I’m John Hancock, but I don’t know your last name.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It’s always good to be informed. That and I’m a real man of the people ya dig? I like to get to know the public. Humor me.”

Silver gave a little snort and turned for the stairs. “It’s Donahue.”

“Oh, so you’re from an old Irish family too then I take it?” Hancock asked following after her.

“Well…I mean…The Donahue’s are Irish, and they raised me, if that’s what you mean.”

“I just mean that ‘round here, in Boston, lots of family’s have Irish roots. But you’re from capital…so it’s a little…surprising.”

“There are all sorts in capital…not that anyone back there pays any attention to that sort of stuff. People only care if you bleed in capital. If you bleed they can kill you.”

“It really that bad there?”

“Not all the time…”

They left Ellie to get settled in behind the old returns desk and climbed the short flight of stairs to the second floor reading room. Hancock could smell the fire Lane had apparently been successful in starting, but more importantly he could smell the food Paulette had prepared. He hadn’t had a decent hot meal since Nate had left.

“Hey Paulie, we’re back!” Silver hollered, tossing her cloak over the back of a chair.

Paulie emerged from behind a leaning bookshelf still brandishing the cooking knife. “You find Ellie? Is she alright?”

“Yeah yeah, in the woods, just like I said she’d be. She’s downstairs now. Inside.”

“Good work sis, I appreciate it.”

“It’s not like I had a choice. Dinner ready?”

Paulie shot silver an annoyed frown but quickly replaced it with a smile. “Just about, Lane cleaned off a table for us. We can actually all sit down for a real meal just like back home. Nice huh?”

“I guess.”

Lane, sans power armor, was in the process of setting one of the old heavy oak tables with plastic dishes and bottles of Nuka-Cola. He was caught up in his task, and aside from a friendly welcome back wave, he paid Silver and Hancock no attention.

“Go ahead and sit down, it’ll be ready in a second or two,” Paulette instructed with a jerk of her head before returning to where she had been cooking.

“Well now, ain’t this a quaint ‘lil set up. Dinner at a table on the road in the wealth. With dishes and everything. You’re a classy bunch you know that?”

The corners of Silver’s mouth pulled upwards but not quite enough to be called a smile. “Glad we could live up to your standards Mr. Mayor. I’ve always wanted to facilitate a political banquet you know…”

Hancock laughed. “Oh, you’ve got jokes now do ya? Interesting.”

“A momentary slip, it probably won’t happen again,” Silver quipped removing her gloves and laying them in the same chair as her cloak.

Her mood had certainly improved. And that laugh? Where had that come from? It had been a sweet sound, charming, most of all it had been surprising. Surprising because Hancock was certain it must be rare. After all, he had only managed to make her do it once, and he knew for a fact that he was hilarious. But he was glad to learn she was actually capable of laughing. He figured it was as good a sign as any that there wouldn’t be any more fighting amongst them for the remainder of his stay.

Paulette dished out pork n’ beans, InstaMash, and carrots onto three of the four plates that sat waiting on the table. The fourth received only the vegetables in small portions and some scraps of dried meat. This must have been Silver’s dish. Of course the little sister was a picky eater.

Surprisingly there was no ceremony or order to the meal, not the way there usually was when people bothered to actually sit down at a table for a meal in this day and age.

Lane flopped down into a creaky desk chair and began to shovel food into his mouth. Everyone else followed after. First Silver, then Paulette, and finally Hancock himself.

Things were quiet for a while, nothing but the subtle sounds of chewing, but then Paulette asked how they had been able to find Ellie and the conversation flowed naturally from there.

Paulette continued to exhibit a chatty nature and Lane eventually began to warm up as well. Silver stuck to being quiet but there was no hostility in her now. Maybe she had just been hungry. She didn’t eat much though; she mostly pushed the food around her plate. The carrots tasted plain and the beans tasted a bit like the tin can they had been heated up in, but it wasn’t a bad meal. Maybe she was just too tired to eat.

Paulette asked questions about John’s home and where he was from originally, which he gave only half answers to, and he redirected them back to her as often as possible. Hancock managed to stop her barrage of questioning entirely when he asked Lane about his power armor.

Lane lit up at this invitation. “Back in capital, my old man, he had a thing for machines. Cars, if you can believe it. He always wanted to get one back in working condition but, well hell, those things are unstable. It was too dangerous. Anything with wires and circuits though, he loved it. My old man taught me how to fix up a few things, water pumps and filters and the like, but my own talents developed elsewhere.”

“You mean that thing?” Hancock asked, pointing at the slumped over power armor with his fork.  
“Well, not right away. I started out with traps.” Lane’s face colored and he scratched the back of his head.

Paulette laughed. “Your damn booby-traps, I remember.”

“I liked to pick on the girls, especially Paulie, cause she was a bit older than me. You know, bratty kid stuff. Well like I said she was a bit older than me and a bit smarter. When I set up my traps she rarely fell for them. I had to put a lot of effort into making them discrete and the like and I eventually got pretty good at it.”

“So how did that become a penchant for power armor?”

“Well when I grew out of tormenting the girls, it was because, like every other kid in the wastes, I started to learn how too shoot. Turrets became my new favorite toys. Dad didn’t like it at first, thought I was going to hurt myself, but after I got the hang of it, it was all pretty useful. I got lucky with the power armor. Found it in some guy’s garage. He uh, died in the bombs I guess…but the armor wasn’t in bad shape, a couple of repairs and some lead plating and she was good to go. Course maintenance on the road like this isn’t easy, and there are always power cores to worry about, but it’s still pretty handy.”

Hancock nodded approvingly and took a swig of his Nuka-cola. “Saved our skins tonight, that’s for sure.”

“So John,” Paulette started in again, “you don’t have any family back home, but what about a girl? Humm?”

Hancock laughed. “Oh yeah, well…”

*  
When the meal was over Lane climbed into his power armor to do another sweep of the building and Silver excused herself to check on Ellie. Paulette set herself to cleaning up the remnants of the meal. Hancock hopped up to help her but she banished him to one the reading chairs across the room to rest. She was a bossy thing, but it was sort of endearing too. She must have been quite used to leading as well as mothering. Hancock backed down and resigned himself to the chair.

“So John,” Paulette addressed Hancock while scraping scraps of food off of the dishes and out an opened window. “Still headed for Vault 81?”

“Sure, I got no where else to be. Why not ya know?”

“Are you going to stick with us then? I mean, have you given it any thought?”

Hancock sighed and thumbed his bony chin. “Well, thing is…if this were any other little caravan I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m of the mind that you should never take to the road without someone at your back if you can help it, and I’d be grateful for the company. But…given that you have a very unique sort of…well a unique situation, maybe it’s better if we part ways as friends in the morning.”

Paulette chuckled a bit. “By unique do you mean complicated? And by situation you mean my sister?”

“Well I didn’t want to say anything, personally, but yeah, that.”

“You want my honest opinion?” Paulette asked dr0opping the plastic dishes into a basin of soapy water.

Hancock shrugged then winced. The Med-X was long out of his system now and he had forgotten just how tender a bullet wound could be. “I hear honesty is the best policy. Lay it on me.”

“I think it would do her some damn good to be around you. Not you specifically, I mean, you know, ghouls. She’s been a kid for a long time…she needs to do some growing up.”

“This isn’t exactly an issue of maturity alone…if something that looked like me, tried to tear me limb from limb as a kid, I’d be skittish too.”

Paulette nodded in agreement but did so in a way that indicated she still had points left to argue. “I understand, really I do. Silver went through something that has damaged her for life. I recognize that to some extent, she’ll never heal, but I think there is room for improvement in her.”

After a long pause, she continued in a subdued voice.

“I know that there is more than fear at work inside that head of hers. There is some…some really messy stuff in there sometimes, but the fear she feels? She could do without it. She’s strong, stronger than anyone I know, so I know she could get over that fear of hers if she would just work at it.”

Hancock raised his scarred brow. “She seems like the hard working type to me…you sayin she doesn’t put in the effort? To…fix herself or, whatever?”

“I think she has convinced herself that she can’t. That it’s not even an option. There is a wall there and she’s too scared to knock it down so she’ll just ignore it. She’s good at ignoring things like that. Probably makes her a better solider…but a worse person.”

Paulette was drying the dishes now. She bit her lower lip as she became momentarily lost in her own thoughts. “Anyways if you wanted to schlep the rest of the way to 81 with us, I think Silver could cope.”

“I like you Paulette, you and your sister, and your tin man, you all seem like honest hardworking people. It’s good to see that in the Commonwealth. I’d like to travel with you, but I think it’s only fair I ask Silverfish out right. No sneakin around behind her back like, ya feel me?”

“If that’s what you want to do. It’s a free nation John,” Paulette said with a shrug. She tossed the dirty water out the window then shut it up tight. “It’s late. I’m going to go get Sil and I settled in to the annex, send her that way if she comes looking for me.”

“Can do.z”

*  
About twenty minutes later Lane and Silver came back into the reading room. Silver looked at ease for the first time that night, and Hancock figured it was better to ask her permission to tag along now, than in the morning.

“Paulie go to bed already?” Lane asked while removing his helmet. His youthful eyes scanned the room and he blinked a few times like a confused dog.

Hancock yawned. “Yeah, she did. She said we’re stayin down here. S’not too bad, these chairs are kinda comfortable. Hey Silverfish…can I ask you something?”

Silver tilted her head. “Another damn question?”

“It’s a hard one too. How would you feel if I stuck with your group till we hit 81?”

“What? Really?”

“Well, the way I see it, we’ll be traveling just about the same damn roads the whole way there. We’re bound to run into each other again on the way. That would be awfully awkward don’t ya think? And you know how I like to keep up social appearances.”

“Well…I guess so…”

“So it’s cool with you?”

“Paulie is the one in charge…”

“I’m asking you.”

Silver looked at Lane, whose face displayed no change of emotions, then at the bookshelf to her right. She looked deeply focused, as if her decision had dire consequences. Did she take everything so seriously all the time? A look of distress flashed across her face.

“Silver…I’m asking you. If you can’t do it, say so. There ain’t no shame in it, looking after you and yours first, I’d understand.”

Silver met Hancock’s gaze with resolve.

“If Paulie wants you along that’s fine with me. Just don’t go stumbling into any more raider traps on our behalf alright?”

“Deal,” Hancock agreed with a wolfish grin. He held out his hand so they could shake on it, as was polite in these situations, but he almost immediately thought better of it. Not surprisingly, Silver did not take his hand.

She did however give him a subtle nod, and this was enough.

“We’re not paying you or anything!” she quickly asserted. “If anything you should be paying us for the protection…”

“That so? Say, exactly whose gun was it that jammed earlier?”

“That was-that-None of that would have happened if you hadn’t shown up!” Silver shouted, somewhat stunned.

“If I hadn’t shown up, one of you could have taken this bullet instead of me. You should be grateful.”

“Well look at that…” Lane mumbled, giving a breathy little laugh as well. “You two actually can get along huh?”

“W-why don’t you go can yourself, tin man!” Silver snapped, color rushing to her face. “I’m going the hell to bed...”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit longer. I actually lost part of it and had to re-write it so, you know, that sucks, but I think it's ok. I want to say thank you for all the positive comments I've been receiving on this piece, they are really very encouraging and they brighten my day tremendously!

“Who were you yelling at? You weren’t fighting with the ghoul again were you?” Paulette asked, in the process of unbuttoning her flannel shirt.

“What? Oh, no, not exactly.” Silver shook her head. Stress and sleep clouded her mind.

“You know I asked him to tag along with us on our way home…”

Silver frowned and pretended to be absorbed in smoothing out her bedroll. “Yeah, I know.”

“He said he would ask your permission…he wanted to see if you were ok with it first. Did he?” Paulette threw her shirt down on her own sleeping bag and reached for a bowl of water and a wash rag she had already prepared.

“He asked me.”

“And?” Paulette inquired further.

“And I said it was fine. You’re the one in charge.”

“And is it? Fine I mean…”

Silver bit her lip. “It shouldn’t be a problem. I know he is a ghoul now so, I shouldn’t…I should be fine.”

Paulette washed the back of her neck then her face before handing the bowl over to her sister. “Is it really though?” she pushed.

“Yes, really. I’m ok Paulie.”

Silver set the bowl aside and set about removing her boots and coat.

“You know I only ask because-”

“Because you worry, and you worry because you care. I know Paulie.” Silver smiled and knocked into her sister’s arm with her own playfully.

Paulette laughed and elbowed her back. “That’s right, and don’t you forget it you brat. Now hurry up, I’m tired.”

Silver rolled her eyes dramatically and tugged at the zipper of her jumpsuit. White, with black detail, and sturdy leather piping covering the ribs. Her name, SILVERFISH, printed across the shoulders in bold black letters. The sort of detail that would seem vain or even foolish to anyone who didn’t understand her reasons for wearing the suit. Reasons she felt no obligation to explain.

Silver lowered the suit to her waist and used the bowl of cold water to wash away the evening’s sweat and dirt. “It’s too fucking cold for this shit,” she said with a shiver.

“I know, I keep dreaming about taking a hot shower!” Paulette agreed pulling on a set of warm but thinning cotton pajamas. “By the way, how is that cape holding up? Staying warm?”

“Yeah, it’s much better, thanks.”

“Well, you get cold so easy. Can’t have you getting sick now. So, do you think we can trust him?” Paulette asked taking a soft bristle brush though her curls.

“The ghoul? I’m not sure. I’m not getting any bad feelings about him if that’s what you mean.”

“Me either, he seems really genuine. He was so up front about why he was going to 81 you know? That sort of honesty is refreshing. I still feel like he isn’t telling us something but…I don’t know, it seems like whatever it is, is just private.”

Silver unpinned her white tresses and ran a comb through them, cursing each time the teeth snagged a tangle. “I’m not worried about it.”

“You never are…” Paulette hummed a bit annoyed, pushing Silver’s hair over her shoulders and washing her back. “You ever gonna cut this stuff? It would drive me crazy.”

“I don’t know…I kinda like it long. And I especially like driving you crazy,” Silver teased.

Paulette laughed. “Lord don’t I know it. Think John will talk Lane to death in the night?”

Silver tugged her feet out of her jumpsuit and crawled into her own bed clothes. “Have you seen that kid sleep? Won’t be a problem.”

“Wish I could sleep like that,” Paulette sighed wistfully.

“We’ll be home soon.”

“Sil, I know you don’t want to talk about it, because you never want to talk about anything, but…how has it been? Lately? Is it any better?”

“You mean the nightmares?”

“Among other things…”

Silver sighed and rested her chin on her knee. “Better since we left the vault.”

“Have you been-”

“Paulie, enough ok? Not tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright…ok kiddo,” Paulette conceded, rubbing Silver’s back. “What do you think McNamara will tell our new friend John about the De Luca chems?”

“Who cares,” Silver slurred sleepily, settling in to her bed. “It’ll be someone else’s problem then.”

“I guess you’re right,” Paulette murmured, turning out the lantern and allowing the darkness to engulf the annex. “Night sis.”

“Night.”

*

Hancock laid down on his bedroll with a sigh. “So, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Lane shot back, genuinely confused.

“Young stud like you, alone out here with two pretty girls, must be something going on,” Hancock pressed with a mischievous grin. “Which one is it?”

“W-what? No, it’s not like that…”

“Both of them then? Gotta say, I’m impressed, that’s tricky to pull off with sisters.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Lane huffed, his face lighting red.

Hancock let out a low bout of raspy laughter. “If you say so. But for real, you got your eye on one of them?”

Lane chuckled and shook his head. “Paulie is married, she’s got a kid.”

“And she is out here running this trade job?”

“Well, Jax, her husband, he used to help us out. We used to have two brahmin till about a year ago when poor Maisy stepped on a landmine.”

“Ugh…” Hancock groaned with a grimace.

“Yeah. Needless to say she didn’t make it, and Jax just barely got clear. Lost part of his leg. Now he stays with their daughter and Paulie runs things.”

“I see. So then what about Silver?”

“What about her?”

“You and her?”

“That...well…”

“Oh, shit…are you, uh...not of the persuasion?” Hancock blurted out, feeling a bit of heat rise to his face.

“What, you mean do I like men? Hey, I’ll try anything once…” Lane admitted with a grin. “But no, that’s not the reason I’m not with Sil.”

“What then? She too cold for you? She is a bit frigid…wait don’t tell me it’s her eyes or something?”

“No no, it’s nothing like that. I’ve always thought Silver is beautiful, ever since we were younger. But we’ve been friends for so long now, I don’t know, I think it would be like marrying my own sister or something…and she…she’s not interested anyways.”

“That’s rough man,” Hancock said in an attempt to sound consoling. “Hey, you said younger…do you mean she’s always looked like that?”

“White hair, black lips, silver eyes? Yeah always…She has always looked exactly like that…”

Hancock scratched beneath his chin. “So she was born that way…”

“Guess so.”

“What do you think it is? A mutation? The rads?”

“I don’t-I don’t know. Silver wouldn’t like us talking about it…”

Hancock could tell there was something the kid was keeping back, but he decided not to push it. “Yeah, probably not.”

Lane flopped down onto his own sleeping bag and rubbed his face with both of his meaty hands. “You know, she didn’t used to be so…well she didn’t used to be this way. She used to smile and laugh. When Jax got hit she got quiet for a while, but she got better…lately she acts like she did then…only she’s just getting worse.”

“You really care about her huh?”

“My mom died a long time ago and my dad got himself shot up gambling back in the wastes just before we left. The Donahue’s are the only family I have left.”

“Got ya.”

“You know, back before the war, they had all these medications for...for people with problems like Silver. Depression, anxiety, PTSD…she could have gotten help for all of that if…”

“If those pre-war assholes wouldn’t have triggered the end of the world? Yeah…it’s a shit show for us all man.”

“So you’re sticking with us then?”

“Like wonderglue,” Hancock chuckled.

“Well, glad to have you aboard. Try not to die, I kinda actually like you,” Lane joked blowing out the candles.

*

The next few days were quiet. The fault, surprisingly, did not lay with Hancock joining their group. It was the sudden change in the weather that made the journey something of abysmal.

It had started out with more of the bitter cold rain but that quickly turned to ice. The wind had picked up and traveling went slower. The only ones withstanding things well were Lane, snug in his power armor, and Ellie, whose thick hide didn’t let the cold in easily.

They managed to make their way south without attracting the attention of anything worse than a few bloatflies, stunned and lazy from the cold, and a pack of wild dogs. The weather only got worse however.

*

It started snowing several hours before the four of them arrived at the entrance of the vault. The several shabby wooden shacks that had been erected outside were dusted with a thick layer of white. Several pens nearby for holding brahmin stood mostly empty. It seemed the weather had deterred other travelers from leaving home. Even in fair weather the vault wasn’t exactly a booming center of trade, but it was certainly receiving more visitors than it had in the past.

“I can’t believe this shit!” Silver puffed, clutching her cloak around her.

Hancock was doing his best to use Ellie to keep the wind off of him. “It’s pretty nasty…I need a fuckin drink.”

“We’re almost there. Drinks on Lane when we get inside,” Paulette reassured them.

“What? Not cool boss!” Lane groaned, but laughed anyways.

“Now listen, I’ll go check in with the head desk. Sil, Lane, you go unload Ellie and get her locked up.”

“I can help unload,” Hancock offered.

Silver gave him an uneasy glance. “You’ll just slow us down with your shoulder. Stay put and wait for someone to take you inside.”

Then the three of them rushed off leaving Hancock alone, ankle deep in the snow.

It was really coming down now and groups of caravaners were crowding around a long metal warehouse that served as some sort of checkpoint. The warehouse had a somewhat steady stream of people entering at one end, escorted by what appeared to guards, and exiting at the other end, passing freely into the vault.

Security officers were wandering about, grouping travelers up and herding them towards the warehouse. Two of these security officers were plodding towards the back of the ill formed line to the warehouse. Hancock could hear their conversation as they approached.

“When was the last tine it snowed in the Commonwealth? Huh? Think about it,” the shorter of the two men asked.

“I don’t know. A long time I guess,” replied his conversation partner.

“Come on, really think. How many years has it been since you seen it snow?”

“Not since I was a kid I guess.”

“Right, so like what 20, 30 years?”

“Ish, yeah.”

“30 years without a single damn snowflake and on the first damn winter it snows we got guard duty, outside, at night. Tell me how we got so lucky huh?”

“Heh, yeah, but overseer McNamara says this is the best was to handle things now that we have the man power and the fire power. If traders know that they aren’t going to show up at a locked door in the middle of the night they are less likely to make camp in the city and get knocked over by raiders.”

“Wow,” Hancock said interjecting their conversation, “this place sure has changed. Vault is letting quite a few people in huh?”

“Well, since that vault dweller passed through and cleared out the mole rats Overseer McNamara has been more trusting of outsiders. She says there is a lot we can learn from them. She started waving entry fees for traders and then set up this awful night shift. Now just about anyone can come and go as long as they pass inspection.”

“Huh…Now just what kind of inspection are we talking about here?” Hancock asked, with clear suspicion in his voice.

The taller man spoke now. “Oh, it’s nothing too in depth really. We ask a few questions and if necessary the commander checks you over a little. He decides if it’s safe to let you in, ya know? Try to weed out the screw jobs carrying explosives and the like. We got civilians to protect here after all.”

“I feel ya brother. It sounds better than that piss poor synth test they give at Covenant,” Hancock chuckled.

“Yeah, what a bunch of head cases there huh? They got some good walls though. If we had walls like that, we wouldn’t need so many people on night watch and we wouldn’t be out here freezing our balls off-”

“Carmichael! Where is the next batch? The commander is ready for them. Let’s keep things moving!” called a guard from the warehouse doorway.

“Finally,” Huffed the taller guard, presumably Carmichael. “The boss sure is taking his time tonight. What’s the deal?”

“Ah who knows. You’d better get a move on though.”

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered as he headed back towards the warehouse, pulling a group of six and escorting them inside.

“Right, well, I’m already back here talking to you, I may as well get you vetted,” the short man said.

“Shoot,” Hancock replied.

“Alright, first, do you have any weapons in your possession?”

“It’s the fucking Commonwealth, what do you think?”

“I know man, I gotta ask though. Would you be willing to check your weapons prior to entering the civilian area of the vault?”

“Not so sure, It ain’t gonna come up missin is it? I’d have to know it was being kept safe,” reasoned Hancock, utilizing his charismatic political double speak.

“Fair answer, we get that a lot actually. Ok, do you have any explosives, nuclear materials, or other hazardous materials with you?”

“Only what’s left of my lunch.” They both laughed. Hancock was a pro at winning over the people, even when they weren’t his people.

“Alright, last thing, what brings you to vault 81?”

“Hot food, hot water, and I heard you people might have some chems you’re itchin to get rid of.”

“Heh, figures. Well better a junkie than a crazy,” the guard chuckled. Just then came the distinct sound of an angry brahmin and panicked shouting from one of the holding pens.

“Aw hell, what now? You-you just go on ahead, you’re clear!” He shouted jogging off to investigate.

The wind picked up and tugged bitterly at the collar of Hancock’s coat. He gave in and joined a group that had gathered near a barrel fire for warmth. Where the fuck had the other three gone? Had they ditched him in the cold?

The door to the warehouse swung open and Carmichael began to herd in another group.

“What about you buddy, you clear?”

“I sure as hell am,” Hancock quipped, all too eager to get out of the snow.

“Alright, come on in with this group,” Carmichael said, waving him past.  
Inside the warehouse the air was warmer, as the walls did a fairly decent job of blocking the whipping wind, but the opening and closing of the doors meant that the body heat was constantly lost to the outside. There were a few chairs and sofas at one end of the room where travelers were directed to wait, and three desks at the other end, where guards handled their inspections.

The guards pulled people up to their desks and asked them more questions, mostly about any affiliations they might have with raiders. Those that were admonished passed through the second door towards the vault. Those, that even Hancock had to admit looked on the unsavory side, were asked to return to the waiting area for further inspection by the commander.

“Hey, you,” called a strong sharp voice, snagging Hancock’s attention immediately. It was a low and powerful voice but not overtly hostile. The man it had escaped from, standing behind the row of desks, was pointing at a man with an eye patch and a scar on his upper lip.

“Come here,” he ordered.

“Then you,” he called out pointing at Hancock.

This man, presumably the commander, wasn’t all that tall but he had broad shoulders and he was clearly well muscled under his tattered military coat. He had dark hair, that wasn’t cropped as tightly as one would expect from a military type but he had the clenched jaw for it.

The one eyed man stood from the chair he was occupying, and crossed the room toward the commander.

“Do you want to tell me your story, or are you going to make me work for it?” he barked inhospitably.

The one eyed man shrugged.

“Ex raider?” the commander snapped again, this time with a note of anger. He made a show of parting his coat and revealing the heavy pistol strapped to his waist.

“When I was a kid, yeah, for a few years. I left em a long time ago, after they took my eye. I’m just here looking for caravan work, that’s the God’s honest sir.” The gruff man told the commander. The commander leaned in, looking deep and hard into his face, then, he nodded and waved him away.

“Yeah, I think you’re alright,” he grumbled jutting his thumb behind his shoulder, indicating the man was free to move on. “Next!”

Hancock straightened the collar of his coat and took a step towards the commander, but the thunder of hurried footsteps approaching from behind caused him to turn and investigate instead.

It was Silver, not quite running to join them, her cloak twisted out of place and its hood flopped over her right eye. Hancock grinned beneath his mask because he thought she looked a little ridiculous, like the white rabbit running late for the queen.

“Wait! Wait! He’s with-he’s with us! He’s with us…” Silver puffed stepping up beside him.

Hancock was surprised it was Silver who had come for him, but strangely a little relieved. “I wondered where the hell you were…”

The commander appraised Silver with mild annoyance. “Donahue…your party made it back ok?”

“Yes sir.” Silver looked nervous again. The way she had looked on that first night.

“And this is?”

“We picked him up on the road. He’s alright.”

The commander narrowed his eyes a bit. “You’re vouching for him?”

“Yes sir.”

“For Christ’s sake Donahue, call me Morrison…this isn’t the damn gunners…”

“Yes sir…Morrison…”

“Ok if you’re vouching for him he can go on in as soon as Paulette clears it at the trade desk.”

“Alright, thanks Morrison.”

“Glad to hear you all made it back,” Morrison said in a gruff informal tone. He clearly wasn’t the warm fuzzy type, not even secretly, but he seemed decent.

“Thanks,” Silver acknowledged with a slight bow of her head.

Silver waved Hancock to follow and she headed towards the back row of desks.

“Were you trying to lose me?” Hancock asked her, tilting his head a bit.

“There was a problem with another brahmin. I got held up.”

“So what’s the deal with all this?”

“What’s it look like? Security.”

“And the tough guy over there?”

“Commander Morrison. Stay out of his way okay? And…keep your mask on.”

Hancock looked around suspiciously but nodded. “Alright, but why? Is he some kind of bad news?”

“Well…I mean…look it isn’t you I’m worried about. Morrison kind of has it out for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The overseer asked me to be commander first, due to my previous...military experience, but I turned her down. I wanted to stay with Paulette. I didn’t trust hiring on some other random gun. I suggested the overseer ask Abby Cole to take my place but the overseer went with Morrison instead. I guess he knows I was first pick and that I didn’t endorse him for the position. He isn’t angry with me or anything…but he is a little strict with me and…I don’t know how he would react to finding out I’m…traveling with a ghoul.” Silver cast her eyes down.

“Ashamed of me?” Hancock spat.

Silver jerked forwards and glared at him. “I’m ashamed of me…Morrison knows about…”

“Ok, ok, I got it…”

Hancock was watching the door at the far end of the room, so he saw Lane come in and slink along the far wall. He received pats on the back and even a few ruffles of the hair by some of the security officers and travelers. He was well liked, that didn’t surprise Hancock much. What did surprise Hancock was how stealthily Lane moved through the room in that power armor. Silver had been so distracted she didn’t notice him sneaking up behind her until he snatched her up in his arms in an embrace that seemed both affectionate and menacing.

“You did it Sil!” Lane bellowed, raising her high into the air. “You got us back in one piece!”

“Lane!” Silver screamed in surprise. “Lane Crawford you put me down! Right now!” She squirmed and banged on the panels of the armor but she was helpless in his grasp. Lane bounced her up and down, as a parent sometimes does with a small child, laughing good naturedly.

“Lane-if my hair-gets stuck-in this damned thing-I swear-on the grave of-your buck toothed mother-I’ll kill you!” Silver shouted between the bounces.

He stopped shaking her and looked her up and down thoughtfully. “Hey, you know Sil…you feel lighter. You been eating ok?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

“Put me down you idiot.”

“Fine already…damn, when did you become such a grump?” he whined playfully, setting her down.

“Well one of us had to grow up and it wasn’t going to be you…”

Paulette approached them from the left and gave them both a mild shove. “Neither of you have any room to talk about growing up. Come on, we’re all checked in. I need a hot meal and a hot shower. Lane could do with two…”

“Hey!” Lane griped. “I’m starting to take personal offense with your sense of humor miss Donahue.”

Paulette cracked a smile. “Yet you keep coming back for more…”

“I come back for the caps. What can I say, you’re a bitch, but you pay well,” Lane said with a shrug.

“And don’t you forget it.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My anxiety is slowly getting back under control so I've been feeling up to writing lately. On a slightly unfortunate note I have just started my first actual job and in a few days I will have a new puppy to look after, so I'll be a bit busy in the weeks to come.

The vault door was already open when Hancock and the others approached. There were two final security officers posted just within, shivering and half asleep in the cold. One of them weakly nodded at Lane before letting them pass to the elevator.

“So…” Hancock uttered to no one in particular. “What happens now?”

“What do you mean?” Paulette asked raising an eyebrow.

They had reached the elevator by this point and Silver punched the button with the bottom of her fist. The whir of electric and a pulley system indicated the elevator would soon arrive.

“I mean just how long do I pal around with you guys? I don’t wanna be in anybody’s way, cramp anybody’s style…”

Lane laughed and clapped Hancock on the back. “Didn’t you hear? I’m buying drinks for us all first. May as well stay for dinner too.”

Lane’s well intended show of friendship sent ripples of pain through Hancock’s shoulder, but he swallowed down his yelp and gave a firm nod instead.

“Great!” Lane beamed.

The elevator dinged and its doors parted. Silver gestured for the others to enter first and she held the doors. They rode in silence for a while. The vault was deep and the elevator wasn’t exactly speedy. Silver leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling. She looked almost as on edge as she had when she had pulled her gun on him.

“You know I was gonna stop by Mum and Dad’s before I ate but it’s so late now, probably ought to just wait for morning now huh?” Paulette asked leaning against Silver’s shoulder.

“Yeah…I’ll bet Jax and the bratling are out too. You can crash in my room if you don’t wanna wake them up,” Silver answered. Her eyelids fluttered in a heavy tired way, and Hancock wondered if she was even going to make it to dinner.

Paulette shook her head with a half smile. “Nah, besides, isn’t your room a bit…well…”

“The spare bed is still fine…”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. What about John here?”

“What? Paulette no way am I-”

“I meant where is he staying? In communal?”

“Like it’s my decision. All I know is he is NOT sleeping in my room…” Silver snapped.

Hancock couldn’t help but laugh. Her outbursts were so sudden and passionate, compared to the rest of her monochromatic demeanor, they seemed almost theatrical. “Relax, I’m not sleeping in your room. I got it.”

“I’d offer up my room but…I practically live in a closet. You’d probably be better off trying out the visitor lodgings,” Lane offered up.

Paulette shrugged. “They aren’t so bad really, provided you don’t mind sleeping in a room of strangers.”

“Well, I’ve slept in worse digs, I’m sure,” Hancock laughed it off. “You can just buy me an extra drink to make up for it.”

Lane beamed. “Haha! Deal.”

The elevator finally reached the bottom and the doors slid open with a slight creak, abruptly ending their conversation. Paulette held the doors and everyone slid past her, into the vault.

“Welcome home…” muttered Silver. She glanced over at Hancock with some diluted look of distress.

“You can take that mask off now,” she told him. “You might get some funny looks but, no one should bother you.”

Hancock paused then pulled the mask away. “You mean no one but you, right?”

Silver frowned.

“Relax already. You don’t bother me.” Hancock gave her a smile.

She attempted to reciprocate but her eyes never strayed from their worried look. “You have good teeth for a junkie,” she acknowledged.

Hancock snorted and approached the railing in front of him. He looked down onto the quiet little cafeteria, where a few travelers ate hot meals to chase the cold from their bones.

“So this is vault 81 huh? These things really do all look alike. You ever wonder if this is what things _really_ looked like before the bombs? I donno, I don’t think I buy it.”

“Yes and no,” Silver answered. Her stare was miles away.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I-I just mean…they built these places before the war, sure, but they built them with the future in mind right? S-So probably yes and no…” She stuttered.

“Yeah, guess you’re right”

“Let’s get some grub,” Paulette practically ordered. “No one likes the look of a hungry ghoul.”

Hancock barked out a laugh. “No arguments here!”

They crossed the open floor two by two. Paulette and Silver, Hancock and Lane.

One of the vault residents jostled Lane’s shoulder as he passed by. “Hey metal man, don’t you ever park that thing?” He shouted in a friendly manner.

“Yeah, don’t you?” Hancock asked.

“Sure. They set up a power armor frame for me in the generator room. On my way there now.”

“You ain’t gonna drink? Thought you were buying?”

“I’ll be back to pay the tab. Don’t you worry. Paulie will order for me.”

Lane adjusted the pack he carried, gave Hancock a playful salute, and split off from the group. The clank of his footsteps could be heard even after he was out of view.

Silver and Paulette pushed up to the cafeteria counter and Paulette slapped its surface twice to get the attention of the elder woman working further away.

“Oh, well hello there Paulette, Silver. Oh! Is he…is he with you two then?”

“This is John,” Paulette spoke up. “He’s with us. Can we get something to eat Maria?”

“Sure, you know we stay open late now. What would you like?”

“What do you think Sil, beef tonight?”

“Yeah, beef is fine.”

“Ok, three steak dinners and broth and bread for Silver.”

Maria frowned. “Just the broth sweetheart?”

Silver nodded firmly. “Yeah.”

“You know how Sil’s tummy can be funny. She’ll be fine,” Paulette assured Maria.

“I’ll be fine,” Silver echoed.

“Alright then. Three steak dinners and bread and broth for Silver. I’ll call you back over when it’s ready.”

“Can we have some water?”

“Oh, of course. Here,” “The woman mumbled distractedly handing over three cans of chilled water. Paulette collected them and led the three of them to an empty table.

Paulette dropped the backpack she carried onto the floor and shrugged off her coat. Silver followed her lead and removed her cloak, coat, and gloves, draping them haphazardly over the bench beside her.

Hancock took interest. This was his first look at Silver not draped in the heavy garments she wore to fight the cold. She was tall, every bit as tall as he was, though he had to account for what height her boots added. She was long-limbed as well. There was something spry about her shape, the way she moved so orderly, without rigidity, that made Hancock think she must be rather flexible. He liked the way the word tasted in his mouth and was tempted to utter it out loud.

There was also something uniquely young about her build, something fresh and budding. It made her age difficult to gauge. She was not a voluptuous woman or opulent of the flesh. Just below her ribcage her waist cinched in, giving her a slight hourglass figure, despite her narrow, boyish hips. She was undeniably on the thin side, but she was still sufficiently round in all the most pleasing places. At least by Hancock’s account. Not that he was picky.

Silver must have felt Hancock’s gaze on her because she suddenly locked eyes with him and scowled. Hancock quickly looked away, but he was sure it was obvious it hadn’t simply been a passing gaze.

Silver popped the tab on her water and downed most of it in one go.

Hancock let his can sit on the table top and bead up moisture before opening it. “Ice cold water, in this day and age…”

“Just wait till you see the bathrooms. They have _hot_ water!” Paulette gushed.

Hancock was on the verge of making a reply when he noticed a shadow being cast across the table.

“What the hell? Silverfish and a ghoul at the same table? Am I seeing shit?” the shadow bellowed.

Hancock turned to observe the owner of the shadow. It was a man dressed like a guard. The rough type. The grizzled mercenary type.

Silver rolled her eyes. “Your eyes are fine Monroe. Why don’t you go use them somewhere else.”

“Maria, whiskey!” Monroe shouted over to the counter.

Maria glared at the man but brought him a glass of cheap whisky all the same.

Monroe took a swig of the drink and hissed as it burned its way down into his gut. “So, have you thought about that little _proposition_ I made you before? I could get rid of the ghoul for you as a bonus if you like,” he chuckled in a lewd way.

Silver jolted at his words, as if they shook her to her very core. The white skin of her cheeks turned a soft shade of rose in what must have been a blush.

“No,” she said with ice in her throat. “But my suggestion still stands. Enjoy fucking that deathclaw. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

Monroe grimaced and bent down so as to lean on the cafeteria table, closer to Silver. Silver scrunched herself in a little, but not enough to look intimidated. Anger began to boil under Hancock’s collar.

“You’re a real cold bitch, you know that Silverfish? It’s too bad you got such a problem with ghouls cause a bunch of living corpses would be the perfect crowd for you” Monroe snarled, quiet and close to Silver’s ear.

Paulette gasped, stunned into silence.

Silver’s empty water can crumpled in her hand. There was a tremor of deep emotion moving through her entire body. Hancock wasn’t sure if it was anger or fear, but he could see her trembling.

Hancock glared at the guard and moved to stand from his seat. “Hey pal, that’s no way to talk to a lady.”

Monroe rasped out something of a laugh. “Silverfish isn’t any lady. She’s just a plain old freak, right Silverfish?”

Silver shot Hancock an icy glare of her own and it froze him in place.

“Monroe,” she began, reaching across the table and taking the man’s drink, “I would take a pack of ferals over you any day. They’re better mannered and better looking than you are, that’s for damn sure. Now, if you make _your_ lack of human decency _**my**_ problem again, I’m going to make sure it becomes the overseer’s problem too. Do we understand one another?”

And with that she downed the whiskey and slammed the glass on the table.

“Looks like you’re finished with your drink. You should probably pay and leave, right?” Silver asked with a forced smile on her lips.

Monroe snorted aggressively. “You’re just so sure McNamara would take your side aren’t you? You looked in a mirror lately? _You’re_ the freak down here, remember that Silverfish.”

“ _You’re_ the one who is drinking on the clock. You remember that,” she shot back.

Monroe pulled a face as if he were going to spit at her. Instead he turned sharp on his heels and walked away.

“What a prick,” Hancock growled once the guard was out of earshot.

Paulette coughed in discomfort. “I can’t believe he had the balls to say that to you. Silver you oughta lay him out already.”

“I had it handled, I didn’t need your help,” Silver grumbled to Hancock.

“You’re right, sorry. Didn’t mean to step on your toes there. Got you to look at me though didn’t I?” he chuckled.

“What? I-That’s…enough with your stupid games already, _**John**_.” Silver fixed her face back into its usual serious expression, but the rose color was still in her cheeks.

Hancock couldn’t help but smile. As stern and as badly scared as her face was, it looked sort of cute when she was all flustered.

“Donahue’s, your order is up!” called Maria from the counter.

“Finally!” Paulette breathed. “Let’s eat!”

Paulette and Silver jumped up from the table and returned to the counter. They each carried back two trays. Three with ribeye steak and sides of cooked vegetables and mashed potatoes. One held a deep soup bowl full of pale brow broth and a hunk of grainy brown bread.

“Shit, that’s a class meal. What’s the charge?” Hancock asked ready to hand over the few caps he had scrounged together while on the road.

Paulette shook her head and handed over one of the steak dinners to Hancock. “It’s free, no charge.”

“This is a free meal in this place? What gives?”

Silver slid her tray to the far end of the table and sat down. “That’s my dinner ration. We technically work for the vault so…meals are included.

“You’re…giving this to me?”

“I don’t want it. I can’t eat it…”

“Present company putting you off?” Hancock couldn’t help the hard look he gave her.

Silver’s face flushed again and her eyes went wide. “What? N-No it’s not…It’s not like that. It’s like Paulette said, my stomach is funny…that’s all.”

“So that’s really all you’re going to eat?”

“It’s all I need. Would you just shut up and eat already? Silver asked, ripping off a hunk of bread and soaking it in her broth.

Hancock didn’t need to be told twice. The table went quiet as the three of them dedicated themselves to their meal.

Lane returned shortly, in a mostly clean white t-shirt and well worn blue jeans. His hair was still wild from being trapped in his helmet and, while he had clearly made an effort to wash up, he had missed a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He stopped briefly at the counter to talk to one of the workers and get his own canister of water.

“He’s cute you know,” Hancock announced to the girls.

“Who?” Paulette asked with more curiosity than confusion.

“That hired gun of yours.”

“Lane? You make a pass at him yet?” Paulette teased.

Hancock snickered and shrugged. “Can’t blame a ghoul for trying can you?”

“He’s a handsome one. Silver is a little sweet on him, aren’t you Sil?”

“I’m really not,” Silver deadpanned.

Both Hancock and Paulette laughed at her short off answer.

Lane rejoined them and dug into his meal without a word.

Silver never used a spoon for her broth. She dipped hunks of bread into the broth until there was no bread left then tipped the bowl back and drank what broth remained. It might have seemed like poor table manners but she didn’t slurp, or spill, or scarf.

In fact she ate slowly, as if the entire act was tedious and uncomfortable. Hancock decided it was probably best not to call attention to it and focused on his own food. She had looked very tired, that was probably all there was too it. He was pretty spent himself.

When the food was finished Lane collected the trays and returned them to the counter. “What are we drinking?” he called to the table.

“I want a _**whole bottle**_ of wine!” Paulette cooed.

“Not on what _you_ pay Paulie. How about vodka?”

“Now you’re talkin’!” Hancock cheered.

Silver smiled and waved Lane to go ahead.

Lane brought over four rather generous sized shots of vodka and the remainder of a bottle.

“What are we drinking to?” Paulette asked, taking the glass handed to her.

Lane grinned. “To our fantastic boss?”

“To miss Paulette!” Hancock bellowed and slung back his shot.

Everyone followed his lead. Lane whooped and poured another round. “Ok, this time, to our new friend here.”

Paulette hesitated. “To John?”

Silver met Hancock’s gaze and nodded approvingly. “He saved our asses out there. To John.”

Hancock grinned and raised his glass. “To me then. Why the hell not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say thanks so much for reading! If any of you are fans of the Dragon Age series, or just plain like my writing, I'll be starting an Iron Bull fic here soon (thanks to SOMEONE for making me fall in love with him!).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, chapter ten. I'm impressed honestly. Things are moving slower than I thought but they are about to pick up in a big way! I'm excited to write the next few chapters, Hancock and Silver finally get some alone time! 
> 
> I'd love to get some feedback on the length of these posts. Longer? Shorter? Any feedback at all really would be great. And as usual, thanks for reading!

Silver was a little sweeter with some liquor in her.

Well, maybe not sweeter, but a bit softer for sure. She ceased to glare and pout and settled instead on a hazy but amused expression.

She took two more shots but turned down a fifth. Hancock wasn't sure if that was because she felt the need to babysit the rest of them, she didn't feel comfortable getting drunk with a ghoul nearby, or simply because of her apparently sensitive stomach.

Hancock also wasn't sure he gave a damn. As long as someone else was buying, he was drinking. In his defense, to would take him twice as much alcohol as the others to feel even half as buzzed. And he certainly didn't know when he would be able to afford his next high out on the road.

After the vodka was finished off Paulette went to the counter and purchased a bottle of wine, which she was generous enough to share. Even Silver sipped a glass.

“Wine really isn't my thing.” Hancock admitted. “Takes too long to get you soused proper, and it’s so damn aromatic and fruity. If you ask me, a proper drink should hit you like a good kick to the gut. It should burn a bit ya know? But it _does_ make me feel a might classy. This vault ain't half bad. One of the better maintained ones, that's for sure.”

Paulette swirled her wine in her glass. “Have you seen a lot of vaults then John?”

“Seen a few. None of them were inhabited...at least not by vault dwellers anyways.”

“Yeah well, there aren't many left these days, are there?”

“Nah, I ‘sppose not. So how do you like it here?”

“It's kind of nice...having a place that's safe and warm and dry. Some place my folks can relax. It’s been a bit of an adjustment though,” Paulette disclosed.

“Yeah?”

“Silver hates it here.”

Silver made a shifty non-committal gesture. “I don’t sleep well here, that’s all. I wish you wouldn’t bring it up Paulie…”

“Relax Sil, it’s called having a conversation. Normal people do it all the time,” Paulette quipped.

Silver smiled and raised her glass a bit. “Point taken.”

“Hey,” Hancock addressed her with a grin, “what d’ya know…you’ve got good teeth too.”

Silver laughed and began to pour herself more wine when there was a bit of commotion at the other end of the room.

It was faint and difficult to comprehend but there was shouting, followed by the tapping of little feet rushing across metal flooring.

Shoving her way between two cafeteria patrons was a little girl. She had big eyes and curly auburn hair tied up in pig tails with pink ribbons.

Hancock smiled to himself. Actual ribbons. Vault life really was something else.

“Mama! Mama you’re back!” the little girl shouted running up to Paulette and hugging on to her side.

Paulette’s face was a mixture of shock and delight. “Francine Jo what are you doing out of bed at this hour?” she asked as she squeezed the child close.

Lane ruffled her hair. “Hey there Frannie Jo!”

The little girl snuggled into Paulette’s lap. “I heard one of the other people say you were home and I came to see you! I missed you mama.”

“I missed you too Frannie, but you shouldn’t have left the room this late at night. Don’t do it again ok? You’ll worry your father sick.”

“Ok mama. Mama guess what!”

“What baby child?” Paulette asked, sounding exhausted as well as pleased.

“I saw a baby radstag today! Did you see him? Was he still outside?”

Paulette beamed down at her daughter with unfathomable love. “No sweetie, I didn’t see him, but maybe we can look for him tomorrow together. How does that sound?”

“Ok mama!”

Silver slammed the table and glared at Paulette and the child.

Hancock jumped back slightly in surprise. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Hey you little blighter.” Silver snarled, staring the girl down. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

The girl giggled and leapt from her mother’s lap into Silver’s open arms. “Aunie Sil! I missed you too!”

Silver laughed and hugged the child. “Sure you did, you little monster. So how is my favorite niece?”

Hancock breathed in relief and smiled a bit. It had only been a game. He was glad to know that Silver wasn’t so cold as to treat a child that way in any serious capacity.

“Aunnie Sil, I’m your _only_ niece!” Frannie giggled.

“So? That makes you my favorite doesn’t it? Were you good while we were gone?”

“Yup,” Frannie insisted with a confident nod.

“Did you find anything cool from the excavation site?” Silver mock whispered with a wink.

“Oh!” gasped the child, who leapt from Silver’s lap. “I’ll be right back!” she shouted as she scurried off.

There was a slight hush over the table for a few moments.

“So it’s Francine is it?” Hancock inquired, leaning in closer to Paulette. “Lane mentioned you had a kid. So how old is the little rug rat?”

“She’ll be six in a few weeks,” Paulette noted with a touch of pride.

“They’re cute at that age.”

Paulette nodded and sipped her wine. “Yeah, they are. I don’t suppose you have any children, do you? Silver told me you’re one of the few ghouls around here that isn’t pre-war, so I suppose it’s possible…”

Hancock shook his head. “Nah, at least, none that I know about. I don’t mind ‘em though.”

“That’s a bit of a shame. I could see you with a few nippers of your own,” Paulette acknowledged.

“Me? Nah. I’m not the type to be tied down like that.”

Silver nodded knowingly. “Have to be free to roam…”

“Exactly.”

“Still,” Paulette protested, “you seem like you would have been a good father. Minus the chems perhaps…”

Hancock laughed and nearly spilled his last few sips of wine.

Shortly after, Frannie returned with what she had been looking for and eagerly awaited her aunt’s attention.

“Aunnie Sil, look’it!” she cried holding up what appeared to be a shiny polished piece of mirelurk shell. Something akin to mother of pearl.

Silver lit up with pride. “Oh wow Frannie, that’s really pretty. Be sure to take special care of that ok?”

“I found a thing for you too aunnie Sil,” the child informed her with a grin. She was hiding something behind her back.

“For me? What could it be I wonder?”

“You gotta close your eyes to get your surprise!” Frannie sing-songed.

Silver giggled and did as she was told, holding out her palms expectantly. Frannie withdrew her hidden hand and in it sat a pink hued pearl almost the size of her tiny fist. Hancock had never seen anything quite like it, pre-war or post. Silver’s hand gave to the weight of the pearl as he child laid it in her palm. She opened her eyes in shock.

“Oh Frannie,” she gasped. She delicately rolled the soft gemstone about on her palm. “It’s beautiful…are you sure you don’t want to keep it sweetheart? It’s very pretty and very valuable.”

“Well…it is round and shiny, like all your other shiny things. I think I was supposed to find it for you.”

Silver was clearly touched by the child’s selflessness and she hugged and kissed and tickled her relentlessly.

“You’re such a good kid. I’ll bet I have a box of Fancy Lad’s just for you in my pack. Why don’t you and your mom go and find them?”

“Mama, mama, let’s go!” the little girl cried, jumping up and down.

“Just a moment sweetie, mommy has to pay her bill. You sit here you got it?”

“Got it!”

Paulette raised her eyebrows and held out her hand expectantly. Lane pouted and handed over a fistful of caps. He seemed to be in good spirits all the same.

Paulette and Silver both rose and walked to the counter. Lane was shortly called aside by one of the other merchants inquiring about a shipment of mutfruit, and Frannie and Hancock were left at the table alone.

For a while she was content tapping her little fingers on the table. When she tired of that she began to swing her feet back and forth, letting them thump against the table legs. It took a while for her to notice Hancock at all. Then she looked up with a bit of surprise and spoke.

“Hey!” she said boisterously, pointing at Hancock. “I know what’s wrong with your face!”

She wasn’t scared or being mean spirited about it, she was just nosy, like any other kid.

“That so? What would that be?” Hancock asked with amusement.

“You’re a ghoul!” You’re a mutant, but you’re still a people like me and mama and Lane.”

“Hey that’s right kid. You’re pretty sharp huh? You learn all that in school did ya?”

The child shook her head. “Naw, my mama told me. She’s really smart, she knows everything! She says I’m not supposed to stare at you. Cause it’s rude.”

“You can stare at me if you want, I don’t mind kid.”

“Really?”

Hancock laughed. “Sure, what do I care?”

The little girl laughed and met his gaze. No fear in her eyes.

“Hey d’you know what? Your eyes are black. My aunnie Sil has black eyes too. Some of the ways.”

“Right again.”

“But aunnie Sil isn’t a ghoul. She has a pretty nose and pretty hair. Don’t you think she is pretty?”

Hancock pondered this for a moment. He looked over, as casually as he could, and studied Silver.

Her nose was petite; he supposed that constituted as pretty. And she did have a nice full head of hair, white or otherwise.

Hancock felt himself grinning. Never-minding her scars and her unusual coloring, he had to admit, she had a nice body.

A nice ass, pert and firm, revealed in detail by her jumpsuit. Her shoulders were narrow but clearly strong. Her chest was her most femininely endowed feature, though not pressed into the suit as tightly as her lower half. Round, perky, a decent handful there.

Hancock gave himself a shake and felt heat rushing up the back of his neck. Even he knew when he was behaving overtly lecherous.

“Yeah, sure, she’s pretty. Must run in the family,” he teased her.

She giggled bashfully.

Paulette and Silver had settled their bill and had meandered closer to the table where Hancock and Francine sat waiting, but had stopped to apparently chat privately.

“I think aunnie Sil should marry Lane. Lane is big and strong and smart. He always protects my mommy and aunnie Sil…he’s funny and he is good at stories. I think he would make aunnie Sil happy like my daddy makes my mommy happy.”

“Well, he’s a looker, that’s for sure,” Hancock mumbled. “Hey kid, how close are they? Your aunt and Lane I mean. They spend a lot of time together?”

“Sure, lots, Lane is family.”

“Right…”

“But aunnie Sil says she can’t marry Lane. I heard her tell my mama. I think it’s cause she’s a mutant too. I heard mommy say so.”

“She’s a what now?” Hancock asked, utterly confused.

Paulette was close enough that this perked her ears. She snapped to attention and rushed to the table.

“Francine Jo Donahue! What did I tell you about saying that?” Paulette asked sternly.

“But…” Francine began to argue.

“Not another word. Lane, would you please take her back?”

“Sure thing boss,” he answered. He scooped up the little girl, who whooped with laughter, and exited the room.

“I’m sorry Sil…you know kids, they’ll say any damn thing.”

“You mean they’ll repeat anything…”

“Silver…”

“It’s ok Paulie, I know she doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just a brat kid, probably gets it from her mother,” Silver joked.

“Ah! Hey now!” Paulette protested, but found herself laughing.

“You’d better go and see your husband. And get that kid of yours the hell to bed.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Tell Jax I say hello. Feel free to tell him what a pain in my ass you were this trip too.”

Paulette mock glared at Silver then picked up her pack and kissed Silver’s forehead. The sort of goodbye sisters could so easily share.

Then Hancock and Silver were alone. She looked him over warily, then almost appraisingly.

“Hey, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not on the menu,” Hancock attempted to inform her with a straight face.

Silver’s eyes widened and she looked as if she might slap him purely from the surprise of what he had said.

Hancock lost his composure completely and bent over the table with laughter.

Silver’s cheeks flushed slightly. “You’re an ass.”

“Man, that face of yours, talk about priceless.”

“Shut up. Come on let’s go.”

“Where we off to?” Hancock asked, genuinely curious.

“My room,” she answered, snatching up her things. She was clearly flustered by the situation.

It was Hancock’s turn to be flustered. “Oh I-uh…Yeah ok, but-”

“Your shoulder. It’s been a few days. I’d like to check it.”

“Oh, I see,” Hancock acknowledged and then waited a beat. “You want another peek at the goods, don’t you?”

Silver kicked Hancock in the shin.

“Ow! Hey!” he whined.

“You can shut up and follow me, or you can go die of gangrene for all I care.”

“Alright, alright…lead the way then.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Also, I know I promised more action this time but the chapter just kept getting longer and longer, I had to split it into two. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon! Hope you enjoy!

Silver made her way out of the large center room. Hancock scrambled up from the table to follow, almost forgetting his pack.

She spoke to no one as she went. No one reached out to pat her shoulders or tousle her hair as they had with Lane. No one even looked her way, and then Hancock realized why. 

She was an outsider here, resident or not. She was made to feel unwelcomed in her own home. Hancock felt a twinge of sadness for her flutter through his chest. This sort of thing would never happen in Goodneighbor. 

_Damn…lucky she has her family_ he thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

Silver entered a room labeled “generator room” that astonishingly contained: generators. She snaked towards the left wall and opened what appeared to be a newly installed door. 

“Mind your head,” she warned him, ducking to avoid the low doorway herself.

“Thanks…awfully kind of you, all things considered…”

She glanced back at him as if insulted. “I’m afraid of ghouls; I don’t harbor hatred for them. There is a difference you know.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“Besides, passive aggressive games are so childish. If I’m going to be angry with someone I pretty much let them know up front, loud and clear. Who has the energy for all that subtle crap?”

“Wise policy. Can’t say I care for games like that myself.” Hancock smiled to himself. He kind of liked this mouthy gun for hire.

“Really?” Silver questioned him. “I would have thought you political types lived for that kinda stuff.”

“I’m a busy man. I got a town to run. I can’t get caught up in that crap.”

Silver giggled softly. “That’s right. You’re the very important Mayor of Goodneighbor. You need to focus on the important issues at hand…like trying to remember where you laid your jet down.”

Hancock grinned. “Finally, someone who gets it.”

The hallways Silver lead him through looked older and a little dirtier. They were in need of more repairs than those they had moved through earlier, and they spanned for quite a ways. They passed dismantled electronics hanging lose from wall panels as well as painted over and boarded up windows. Most of the rooms they passed appeared to be made over holding cells of some sort. They were clearly communal rooms filled with bunk beds and plain wooden footlockers. Everything smelled of sharp bleach and harsh cleaner. 

Silver had apparently detected Hancock’s curiosity and offered explanation.

“This is the part of the vault that had been sealed off and kept secret. They gutted the place and turned it into communal space for travelers and traders passing through. Nothing fancy but, it’s not terrible. Some of the rooms have been converted into private living spaces too.”

Silver came to a stop at the end of a hallway in front of a clunky slapped together computer terminal. She punched in a code and the door in front of her whooshed open. She entered the dark room immediately, not waiting for the lights or for Hancock.

“This was the chief science officer’s quarters or something. I got lucky. It wasn’t too chewed up in here. I said I’d fix it up myself if they gave it to me. Then I made Lane do it,” Silver announced from the darkness. 

Hancock hovered somewhat warily in the doorway until the lights hummed to life and popped on. 

The illumination revealed a living space, visibly large enough for two or three, but hardly furnished for one. 

At the forefront of the room there was a small sitting area which consisted of a plump chaise sofa, a mismatched and battered chair, and a squat coffee table that was obviously not level. The table was littered with books and cigarette butts. There was an upturned brahmin skull at one end that served as an ashtray. Just aside from this sitting area was a narrow table where a radio and several bottles of alcohol sat.

Directly to the left there was what might have served as a kitchen area, except for the fact that it lacked most common kitchen components such as a sink or stove. It did contain a wide half fridge and a small dining table. The table had only two chairs, indicating that dinner guests were not often a problem.  
Past the kitchen area, along the left wall, there was another door which Hancock assumed was a closet. 

Behind the sitting area, in the rightmost corner of the room, was a large unmade bed. At its foot was a red hued steamer chest, and to the left of the headboard towered an antique wardrobe. Directly across the room there was a pocket of darkness created by a recessed section of the wall. Vaguely detectable in the darkness was a much smaller cot of a bed, buried under various other pieces of discarded furniture and what appeared to be plain old junk. 

Apart from the mild air of chaos that permeated the space and gave it a lived in feel, the room was devoid of any personal touches. No posters or paintings hung on the walls. There were no curios, knick-knacks, or widgets of any kind that indicated someone spent any time in the place at all. 

It all gave off a slight impression of loneliness. A lonely person lived here.

Silver hung up her coat and cloak on a coat rack by the door, and then she took care to hang her rifle on a wooden rack near her bed. She opened up the red steamer chest and deposited caps and ammo inside. Little sounds escaped her but they were so soft Hancock wasn’t sure if it was humming or grumbling.

Hancock entered the room. It was usually easy for him to make himself at home anywhere, but it was obvious no one made this place their home. That made it more difficult for him to do so. None the less, he made an attempt. 

Hancock took off his coat and hung it next to Silver’s. He left his pack on the floor beside the coat rack. 

Silver rushed to make up the rumpled bed and sweep up the cigarette ash. “Sorry about the mess…”

“You live here huh? Not bad.”

“Yeah. Alone, as you can probably tell. I don’t get much company down this way either.”

“You don’t seem the entertaining sort,” Hancock admitted.

“Well, let’s get to it then.”

Hancock gave Silver a mischievous smile. “So you’re the straight to business type? I like that in a woman.”

Silver sighed and shook her head. 

Hancock laughed and began to remove his shirt. You know…you don’t have to do this. I really have forgiven you for trying to kill me. Really.”

“Yeah but I still feel shitty about it. Besides…I’ve always felt that if someone needed help and I could help them, it was my duty to do it.”

Hancock paused. “Well now…that sort of sentiment is rare in people these days. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Silver didn’t answer him. Instead she approached Hancock and closely inspected his shoulder with a clinical gaze. She looked to him awaiting his consent to go forward. When Hancock nodded, she began to undress the wound. 

When the wound was bared Silver frowned at it.

“What?”

“It’s dirty. You haven’t kept it clean.”

“Well…no, I guess not...”

Silver squished up her face in disgust. “You should go shower and clean it up. Then I can re-dress it for you.”

“Uh…yeah, ok. Where?” Hancock rubbed the back of his elbow sheepishly.

Silver’s expression was briefly tinted with bitterness but lightened again quickly. “Here is fine.” 

“Here?”

“I have my own bathroom. Through that door there.”

Hancock raised his brow. “You…sure about this?” 

“Go ahead,” Silver assured him. She moved into the kitchen area and opened a high cupboard to retrieve some clean white towels. “Don’t take all day about it alright?”

“You know it’s night right?”

Silver sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just go.”

*  
Hot water. _**Hot**_ . _**Water**_. Vault life had its advantages and one of them was undeniably hot water. The water that trickled down Hancock’s body and pooled at his feet was slightly gritty and tinged brown from the dirt and grime that so easily clung to his heavily textured skin. He scrubbed himself vigorously, from the top of his bald head down to his nine toes. He even took care to wash behind what was left of his ears. As Silver had instructed him he took special care to wash his wound and it gave up a tiny trickle of fresh blood.

Hancock leaned forward against the tile wall, palms flat, and bowed his head. He let the hot water work away the knots in his back and shoulders. There was a kind of tension not even chems could wear away, and he intended to rid himself of as much of it as he possibly could while he had the opportunity. 

He thought back and tried to remember what it had felt like to wash his hair. He honestly hadn’t done much washing of it in the last few years he had had it. He almost missed the sensation. Almost. 

Strangely the strongest memory that came to him was of his brother grabbing a fistful of it and slamming his face into the dirt in a childhood scrape. One less thing he had to worry about in fights these days. 

He washed until he was sure he wouldn’t leave any dirt behind on the pristine white towel. When he was finished he used his knife to dig the dirt out from under his fingernails. He dried and redressed in the same road worn trousers and boots he had been wearing, but didn’t bother returning his shirt. 

The hole was one thing, but the bloodstain was long set and there was no longer any hope of removing it. Hancock sighed and wadded it up. It was no longer wearable, but it could still be used for patch work or emergency bandaging. It was imperative that one was never wasteful in the Commonwealth.

Satisfied he was presentable, Hancock decided to rejoin Silver in the kitchen area. As he neared the bathroom door he heard soft singing from the other side. It was Silver singing, made obvious by her husky voice. That was no surprise. The surprise was that Hancock knew this tune. He had heard his father singing it plenty of times, and Irish drinking ditties were common enough in Boston. He stood quiet in the doorway and listened. 

“Oh, moonshine, dear moonshine, oh, how I love thee  
You killed me old father, but dare you kill me  
Bless all moonshiners and bless all moonshine  
Their breath smells as sweet as the dew on the vine”

Hancock laughed and finished the course.

“I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home  
And if you don't like me, well, leave me alone  
I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry  
And if moonshine don't kill me, I'll live til I die” 

Silver had been laying her head on the table but jolted upright in surprise when she heard his voice. 

“What’s that one called again? The Moonshiner? You really were raised Irish,” Hancock announced with admiration.

“I said as much, didn’t I?”

“You did. S’just I don’t really remember Silverfish being an Irish name.”

Silver pouted a bit. “I didn’t pick it, and neither did my folks. I…I sort of came with the name. It’s difficult to explain. What about you? Your name isn’t _really_ John Hancock. What is it? Let’s hear it.”

“The John part is true.”

“And you last name?”

Hancock frowned, then he remembered that Silver was probably one of the few people in the Comonwealth who wouldn’t recognize his name. “It’s McDonough. Irish. You may have suspected as much.”

“McDonough...yeah, sounds about right.”

He was right. She had no idea. “It's not really common knowledge though, so if you could keep it to your self, I'd appreciate it.”

“Who would I tell?” Silver tittered half heartedly.

Hancock nodded understandingly. “Hey, how come your sister still goes by Donahue? If she's married and all I mean.”

“Well, either Jax has no last name, or he has one he is too ashamed to tell us. Either way, we've never heard one out of him. When he married Paulie he took Donahue.”

Hancock sat in the vacant kitchen chair across from Silver. “So you "came" with your name? Why didn't your folks give you a new one?”

Silver swept her bangs from her eyes, clearly a nervous habit she had. “I guess you could say I was attached to it at that point...besides, look at me...Silver is my color.”

“I'll say,” Hancock purred flirtatiously.

Silver's face flushed and she shot him a disapproving glare. She was fun to tease. The shy quiet ones always were.  
There was a momentary lull between them while Silver tried to regain her composure.

“Well…you look a little better at least,” she said, picking at her nails again. 

Hancock stretched out his legs then crossed them at the ankles. “Feel a little better too. Your sister was right. Hot water.”

“She gets a lucky guess every once in a while. Now let me look at your shoulder.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Silver rose from her seat and examined the wound thoroughly with her brow wrinkled in concentration. She ran a finger along the sutures to test their tension and Hancock could feel the thick points of her nails catch ever so slightly. He squirmed in pain, but Silver looked pleased. Either she was very proud of her stitching, or she was some sort of sadist. Hancock wasn't sure if he should feel amusement or resentment, and ended up on some uncertain middle ground.

“Well it looks better than I thought it would,” she told him after finishing her inspection. “Despite your neglect of basic wound care, it doesn't seem to be infected. I'm going to apply some antiseptic cream and a fresh bandage to it just to be safe though…”

“You really were some kind of doctor back in the wastes, weren’t you?”

“It was more like triage work, and any idiot could tell you that you need to keep a wound like that clean. Ghoul or not, you don't want to be rotting just yet, do you?”

Hancock laughed. “You’re right. I think I still have a few good two-hundred years or so left in me…” 

Silver stood from the table and entered the bathroom. She searched through the medicine cabinet until she found the supplies she needed.

As she applied the gel, Hancock spoke.

“So...I know you warned me before, that your eyes are none of my business, but...we have been traveling together for a bit now, so I was wondering if maybe you felt up to talking about it now…”

Silver sighed and a pained look crossed her face. "Look...I wish I had answers for you, I really do...Hell, I wish I had answers for me..."

“What do you mean?” Hancock queried with honest bewilderment. 

“I mean I don't know why I look this way. Not really. I don’t remember anything...I don't remember anything before the Donahue’s.”

Hancock winced as the antiseptic saturated his wound. “You don't say? How come?”

Silver’s face soured. “How the hell should I know if I can't remember? I only know what the Donahue's told me.”

"And that was?"

Silver didn't answer him. She stared dead eyed at the clean white bandage she had begun to unroll. Her fingers trembled slightly.

"Uhh..forget it. I can see that one was too personal. I guess I'm just...”

“Rude?” Silver jeered. 

It was Hancock’s turn to frown. “I was going to say something a bit more ...courtly…like beguiled.”

Silver rolled her eyes and began to bind Hancock’s shoulder. "I think I prefer rude."

“Either way, you have my apologies.” Hancock’s tone was far from offended. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He waited a beat then grinned at her. 

“Don’t pull your gun, alright?”

She cracked a shaky smile, but said nothing. The silence made Hancock more uncomfortable than he was accustomed to. 

“Hey, look, I know I've been kinda pushy about all of this, I know I oughtta mind my own damn business. We don't gotta talk about it if you don't want to.”

Silver sighed so heavily her shoulders heaved. “Forget about it...I already know you’re a nosey bastard, I shouldn’t be surprised. Besides, I was nosey about how you turned ghoul, so fair is fair I suppose. I'll tell you what I know if you really want.”

“I think I’ve got the time,” Hancock urged her on.

Silver sighed again, though not as deeply as before. “Alright then, if you really want to know. It’s not all that interesting to be honest. They told me that I wandered in from the wastes one day, bloodied. All but dead really. Dad found me, took me home. Mum fixed me up. I don't remember any of that.”

Silver’s hands stilled momentarily as she thought back. 

“To tell you the truth I don’t remember much of my first few months with my family. My first real solid memory is of Paulette, chasing me around with a dead rad roach...I hid from her in dad's work shed…he swatted her ass good for that one haha!” 

She trailed off for a moment, returning to her work.

“After that things are pretty chronological. We grew up in a leaky little shack, dad was almost always on the road with Lane’s father, Mr. Vanderhorst, and sometimes old Dan Bradshaw...mum took care of us two girls. As ordinary as two heads on a brahmin…”

Hancock grunted in both affirmation and curiosity. “I’m…how do I put this delicately…I’m surprised that they took you in just as plain as that. It’s hard enough out there in the wastes just to feed the mouths of your own. To take in some one else like that is generous enough…but…well…with your uh, _unique_ appearance…”

“Why would they take in a freak like me? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Hey now, don’t go putting words in my mouth. I only meant that people are quick to fear what they don’t understand or what they don’t know, and for all they knew you were a synth or something. No one here is calling you any kind of freak…”

Silver shrugged. “No, it’s ok, I wondered the same thing for years. I asked mum once. I didn’t get much of an answer really.”

Hancock paused. He didn’t want to force his curiosity on the girl, but she was also rather intriguing. He decided to continue on. “What…did she say?”

Silver laughed a little. “She said it was because I needed help. As plain as that. I never asked again.”

Hancock nodded slightly. “Huh…your folks must be good people.”

“They are. I’m thankful for them. Paulette too.” 

The expression Silver wore softened considerably. There was a honeyed glow of affection spreading over her, and tenderness in her gaze.

This sparked something unusual inside Hancock, something almost intimate. He felt compelled to reach out and brush the hair from her eyes. Compelled to touch the white of her cheek with his own tanned, scarred fingers. To see if she felt human, to see if she felt corporeal at all. 

Compelled, yes, but not so stupid as to attempt it. Startling her like that again was ill advised, even by his standards, and he had been shot enough recently. Instead he dug his fingers into the loose fabric of his trousers and gripped tightly. 

Silver tied off the bandage and returned the supplies to the bathroom. She had begun humming. Hancock didn’t know this tune but he would wager it was another Irish ditty. Probably one she grew up hearing in her home. The mind was funny like that.

To Hancock’s surprise, Silver didn’t usher him out of her home right away. In fact, for once, she didn’t seem eager to be rid of him at all. 

She moved into her apartment space, straightening a few things as she went, but she seemed to have a specific goal in mind. She approached the coat rack and retrieved the pearl and her cigarette tin from her pocket. She took a moment to admire the pearl and smiled. Hancock found himself smiling too. Paulette had raised a sweet kid.

Hancock decided to light a cigarette and was content enough to watch by the wayside. 

Silver wandered to the tall wardrobe and from it she withdrew two cigar boxes. They were old wooden boxes, pre-war but in near perfect condition. One box read “Siren Cigar Co: Great flavor is calling to you!” and was accompanied by a picture of a mermaid lighting a sailor’s cigar. The second box was a bit more plain, red and white, with the words “Tegan Trade & Imports” in gold letters.

Silver carried the boxes to the table. One was silent as she moved, but the other rattled. She set them on the table and flipped open their wooden lids. 

The red box held actual cigars, the thin ones Silver kept in her cigarette tin. The second box, the one bearing the fanciful image of the mermaid, contained something of slightly higher interest. Inside the box was a glittering treasure trove of odd trinkets. Bits of prewar jewelry, pearls, and gemstones mingled with glass marbles, plastic crystals, and bits of fool’s gold. They all sat on a scrap of black moth eaten silk. 

“Huh…” Hancock mumbled, examining the treasures. “S’all that then?”

Silver let her fingers run over the pearl before placing in securely in the box. “They’re nothing really, just bits and baubles. These earrings here? I have one and Paulie has the other. We dug them up back in capital. Ever since then I’ve collected shiny things. I don’t really know why…I just like them I guess. Frannie helps me look now. It’s like a little game we play.” 

“Some of this is pretty valuable. You just keep it in here huh? A pretty hairpin like that, and all that hair? Seems like a waste to me…”

Silver shook her head. “I stand out enough already…” She flipped the lid closed and opened her cigarette tin. She made sure it was restocked then snapped it closed. She took an extra one for herself and lit it. 

Bitter smoke began to waft through the room. It stung Hancock’s eyes, enough to make them water. He sniffed the air, he had definitely smelled it somewhere before.

“Swear I know that smell somehow…”Hancock mused, tapping his spent ashes into a coffee mug. He tried to sift back through his hazy memories to locate its source, but he came up with nothing solid.

“You mean the sour one beneath the tobacco?” Silver asked. “That’s the smooch. They dip the paper in it before rolling them. Just enough to get a little taste of it…”

“Ah, that’s it. Smooch. We don’t get too much of that here in the wealth. I’ve tried it a few times, difficult to get past the uh…flavor….”

“It’s not so bad…you…get used to it. Eventually.” Silverfish wandered back to her coat and traded the cigarette tin for her watch. She flicked it open and checked the hour.

"Wow," she murmured with a bit of a yawn. "That late already? Hey, if you wait a bit longer, you'll have a better chance of finding an empty bed. The early birds will be rising soon."

“Yeah? Well hell...what's a bit longer I guess. Cool if I just, stay here till then?"

"Well...yeah, ok. It's just...I was going to shower and..." Silver trailed off and took another drag of her laced cigar.

Hancock shrugged. “Go ahead. I don't need to be babysat. I'll entertain myself just fine." 

Silver gave Hancock a scrutinizing stare. 

“I’ll be on my best behavior. You have my word.”

“Oh really? What is the going rate for a politician’s promise these days?”

Hancock chuckled, sending little blasts of smoke shooting out of his skeletal nostrils. “For you? Free of charge. How do you keep the time on that old thing anyways?”

Silver managed a shy smile. “Pipboys down here have been keeping the time since the bombs. I clean it and set it whenever we get back. Lane taught me how.”

“Him again huh? You sure you ain’t sweet on him or somethin?”

“I’m going now,” Silver snapped, snatching up a clean towel and entering the bathroom.

Hancock heard the heavy locking mechanism of the door engage behind her and he was left alone with the ticking of the watch.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy. Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more chapters from Silver's perspective because I'm trying to do more of them.

Silver leaned against the bathroom door until she could compose herself. Why did he do that? Poke and prod at her that way? He probably just liked to get under her skin. People in power always felt so comfortable exercising it over others. At least his prying seemed playful rather than outright villainous.

She tugged off her boots and kicked them into a corner. She was catching her breath more quickly than she had anticipated. That was a small comfort. 

Silver pryed herself away from the door and then peeled off her jumpsuit. She kicked that into the same corner as her boots and took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the warm air on her skin.

She approached the mirror cautiously. After working up the nerve she raised her hand and wiped away the condensation that had built up on the surface. She forced herself to look at the woman reflected back at her. 

The woman was a stranger. She had never been greatly familiar to Silver, but she had once been recognizable at the very least. Where had those cheekbones come from? Had they always been that prominent? She recalled her ribs had always been detectable, but not so much as to be countable, as they were now.

And how could she have come back from weeks on the road, out under the sun, and actually be paler than when she had left? Sure, it was winter and sunlight wasn’t exactly abundant, but this was ridiculous. Well, paler everywhere except for the dark circles that had formed under her eyes.

There was dirt smeared across her cheek and a dot of it on the tip of her nose. She wondered how long that had been here. 

“Embarrassing,” Silver huffed, wiping her face. Once satisfied she had eradicated the worst of the filth from her face, she went back to her self examination. 

She traced the scars on her throat with her fingers, mimicking the swipe that must have put them there. Even they looked unfamiliar under the harsh unnatural light. She could no longer recall what her face had looked like before she had received them. She couldn’t decide if they helped to ground her, to prove to others she could be hurt and bleed as easily as they could, or if they only made her more of a monster. 

Lastly, she inspected her eyes. Those, at least, had not changed. That didn’t mean they were easy to face. Finding nothing of value in them, she turned her gaze away. 

Silver unpinned her hair, which took some time, as it required several pins to hold it all so tightly. She shook it loose and took care to unweave the braids scattered throughout it. Paulette had put them there but Silver didn’t mind them.

Thick and coarse, her hair hung over her boney shoulders in uneven waves. The result of the many hours it had spent trapped on top of her head. She hadn’t cut it since leaving the wastes and she was pleased to see it making progress. She knew long hair was impractical for her profession, but she had been bobbing it for years and had grown tired of it. She thought short hair had only made her look more intimidating, and she would rather let her gun do the intimidating. 

Silver patiently gathered her pallid locks to one side, in front of her shoulder, so as to bare her back. She turned her body away from the mirror and attempted to peer over her shoulder.

She couldn’t see it entirely without the aid of another mirror, but she could see it well enough to know it was there. Bridging the gap between her shoulders, in the same bold black script as on her jumpsuit, was the word Silverfish. The word that continued to pass as her name. She hadn’t lied when she said she was _attached_ to her name.

It could be worse, she acknowledged. It could have said something even more ridiculous like Butterfly or Ladybug, or something cliché like Black Widow. Silverfish wasn't so bad. At least her color scheme helped her live up to her namesake.

Silver tossed her head back, shaking her hair out again before opening the shower and starting the flow of water. She cupped her hand under the shower head and tested the temperature. 

Hot water. Not incredibly hot, the damn ghoul had seen to that, but it was warm at least. What did it matter, it was never hot enough for her liking anyways. And what in hell’s name had possessed her to invite him to her quarters? She easily could have sent him to the med-bay. They usually kept the place staffed day and night now, what with all the travelers moving in and out. Obviously she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Water splashed the shower floor, swirling around flecks of dirt and grit that had been left behind by the good mayor. Silver felt her stomach lurch at the thought of standing where he had stood just minutes ago. There was something almost inherently intimate about a maiden bathing and before now the space had been for her and her alone. She waited for every last trace of dirt to disappear down the drain before she allowed herself to continue.

Despite her discomfort, she couldn’t say she hated his presence. She had heard the mayor of Goodneighbor practically exuded charisma and wit, but she hadn’t expected it to effect her in any way. She expected a smooth talker, and while Hancock may have had a silver tongue, she felt there was more to him than that. 

Silver Sighed and her shoulders sagged heavily. She hated to admit it but she didn’t dislike his company. He was equal parts charming and annoying. And it was almost sort of nice to have a guest over for once. She decided she could forgive the mess. 

When the dirt had drained away Silver stepped out of her plain cotton panties and into the steady stream of water. She scrunched her eyes shut and let the water pour over her face. It felt like drowning, but peaceful, almost pleasant. No sound but the patter of water hitting the shower floor. 

Silver reveled in the sensation of the water snaking over her neck and dripping down her back. She liked the feeling of her wet hair sticking to her skin, of her nails sliding over her scalp. Hot water nearly made up for all the things she hated about vault life. 

She washed her hair with lavender and tea leaf shampoo, a gift from Dr. Penske. It did its best to instill some shine and softness to her pale dull locks, but it often had little effect. Still Silver liked the sent of it, and she loved to feel clean again after being gone for so long. It helped her to feel human again. If human was even what she was. 

For a split second, hot angry tears threatened to well up in her eyes but Silver pushed them back. She had forbidden herself from shedding any more tears over that matter. The pain in her stomach had grown. What had started as a dull wave of nausea had now become a deep burning sensation.

“Heart burn? You have to be kidding me,” she panted, slicking her bangs back and stroking her stomach. 

She had been so careful with her meals, so choosey with what foods she put in her body, but she continued to get sick. It hadn’t started when they had moved into the vault, but it had gotten worse since they had started living there. She tried to tell herself it was all in her head, but it persisted. 

Silver's diet had always been peculiar, she survived mostly on meat and fresh fruit, high in protein and natural sugars. Straying too far from that regiment often ended with Silver's stomach rejecting the food.

Since her sickness had started she had gentled her diet, restricted her intake, her usual methods of getting her body under control, but this time nothing worked. She had begun to worry it was something more serious, but she refused to give into that fear just yet.

That sort of worrying was more typical of Paulette, and the last thing Silver wanted was to be turning into her sister. That was a fate worse than any stomach pain.

Silver scrubbed over her body, trying to bury the stomach pain deep inside her. She counted backwards from 10, tilting her head up towards the ceiling to keep the water from entering her mouth. She sucked in the steamy air and leaned back against the shower wall. She shivered, as the tile was relatively cool compared to the water, but she found the sudden temperature change invigorating and pleasurable. 

Satisfied she had sufficiently scoured her skin of the grime that had accumulated on it over the last few weeks, she cranked off the water, and crossed her arms over her chest to enjoy the warmth of the steam a while longer. 

She laid her head back against the wall, squeezing the excess water from her hair. Outside her bathroom was, quite possibly, the world’s nosiest ghoul. Charming as he may occasionally be, she was thoroughly exhausted. Would anyone blame her if she stayed there nestled in the warmth until he’d gone away?

But of course the steam couldn’t last forever, and the warmth quickly dissipated. Soon Silver found herself cold. She quickly wrapped herself up in her towel and wrung out her hair a bit more. She hastily brushed her teeth with her “home” toothbrush. Her stomach had begun to burn again, and there was now a dull throbbing taking root somewhere behind her eyes. The moment of comfort was over and reality was waiting outside.

*

Hancock had smoked two more cigarettes while Silver had been in the bathroom, evident by the butts that mingled in the coffee mug beside him. He now dozed lazily with his elbow leaning on the table and his head cradled in the palm of his hand. He didn’t even stir when the bathroom door slid open.

Silver emerged from the bathroom trailing fine swirls of steam. She was dressed in her winter button down pajamas. They were vertically striped with white and pale blue, and were admittedly, a full size too big for her. She draped a towel over her shoulders to catch the droplets of water from her hair as it dried, but also to keep her warm.

She glanced at Hancock and had to stifle a laugh. She hadn’t expected to see him sleeping so soundly. like a tired child. She had never met someone so at ease before. She was a little envious. She quietly ambled over to the table and checked her watch again. There was still a bit left to wait yet, so she let Hancock sleep. 

She toweled at her hair and ran her fingers through it to allow the air to get to it. She thought about unpacking the rest of her bag but didn’t want to make too much noise. Besides, she was tired, and the bag would be there in the morning. 

Instead she fetched an emery board stashed in one of the “kitchen” drawers, sat herself on the counter, and began to file down her nails. The board was not the sort of cheap plastic or paper one that would have been left behind in some pre war salon. It was cast of metal, perhaps meant to be used for sanding metal in machine work. Metal, because it was strong enough to smooth Silver's nails.

She had once asked Dr. Forsythe to examine a sample of her nail, to determine why they grew the way they did. He told her that her nails were made out of the same keratin and proteins as anyone else’s, only hers were twice as strong. Instead of soft and translucent they grew in hard and black, like animal claws or horns. He concluded that they had, in some way, been modified genetically. She was unimpressed. All of that bother to be told she wasn’t normal, like she hadn’t figured that out. 

Her nails also grew quite quickly, which made them difficult to maintain on the road. She filed them down like this when she could, but that wasn't always an option. She sometimes tried to grind them down against bricks and whatever rigid surfaces she could find, but it was an endless battle. She felt clumsy with her nails grown long, but she had to admit they sometimes came in handy. Prying things loose, plucking out splinters, clawing out eyes. Those sorts of things. 

Silver gave her hair another squeeze and cringed. Still wet, and growing cold. She gave it another going over with the towel then searched for a comb in the drawer in the cabinet beneath her. 

From the table Hancock mumbled in his sleep. The words were just shy of coherent but Silver thought he might have said something about mermaids. She wondered if the feared and powerful Mayor of Goodneighbor dreamed about such whimsical beings often. 

Were they sweet mermaids? Braiding strings of pearls into each other’s hair, splashing and giggling in a crystal blue lagoon? Or were they mysterious sirens, singing mournful songs from the cliff sides and sea caves, luring him to a watery grave. 

_No,_ she thought, _He wouldn’t dream about those things_.

She imagined that if Mayor Hancock did dream of merfolk, they were the sort who sunned themselves lazily on rocks, passing around inhalers of jet. Silver laughed out loud, nearly dropping her comb to the floor. 

Hancock stirred with a groan, his elbow nearly slipping out from underneath him. He blinked and looked around. “What…What’so funny then?”

Silver shook her head but couldn’t conceal her smile. “No, no, nothing…” 

Hancock’s face screwed up in mild confusion and possibly even annoyance. “Mus’ be something…”

“I didn’t mean to wake you…I thought you might be dreaming.”

Hancock smiled. “I ain’t so sure I’m not still dreaming now….Your hair…it’s different.”

Silver touched the damp ends of her hair and went back to combing it. “It’s…down.”  
“Oh, yeah, that’s it! You, look younger like that…not so serious.” Hancock looked at Silver a while, studying her. “How old are you anyways?”

Silver shook her head. “We don’t really know. I've been with my family for about 14 years or so, so at least that old.”

“You-You could be as young as that?” Hancock sputtered. 

“No, of course not. I wasn’t a baby when my family took me in.” 

“R-right, right…It’s been a long day…”

“I was probably old enough to speak when they found me, but I didn’t for a long time. And when I did, well, like I said, I didn’t remember anything.” Silver stopped combing and laid her hands in her lap. She gazed off into the darkness of the far corner, looking for nothing, and yet somehow disappointed when she found exactly that. “It was almost like starting over again…so, we don’t really know how old I am.” 

Hancock rubbed at his face trying to coax the sleep out of him, then let his hand fall onto the table. “I went ghoul right around 28…or maybe 31, hell, somewhere in there, but that’s the age I feel. Most days anyways. What age do you feel?”

“I’ve never really thought about it before…”

“Come on, humor me.”

Silver bit her lip and thought. She let her dangling feet thump against the cabinet below. “Twenty maybe? I don’t know. Do ages really feel a certain way? I don’t feel any age, I just…am.” 

“Huh…” Hancock grunted.

“That must sound strange…”

“Nah, not really, I get it…some people have blank spaces they’d rather not fill in. Not that unusual at all.” 

Silver looked Hancock over. He was so nonjudgmental that it made her uneasy. People that were quick to agree with you were usually after something. However, if he had an ulterior motive, he sure was good at hiding it. Finding she could not detect anything out of place, Silver hopped down from the counter and wandered into the sitting area aimlessly. She couldn’t place the feeling, but she suddenly felt lost in her own home. Lost, and dizzy. 

“Is it time to go?” Hancock asked, realizing the watch was gone from the table.

“No, not yet.”

“Mm..”

Silver gave a soft sigh and discarded her towel onto the floor. “You can sleep all day. Those chems aren't going anywhere...”

“Y'think the overseer will just hand ‘em over like that?” Hancock asked, preparing to light another cigarette then deciding against it. 

“No. But she'd be glad to be rid of them for a few caps. McNamara is smart; she knows how the world works.”

“I don't have much on me. I like to travel light...any suggestions?’

Silver pursed her lips and thought. As much as she really didn't care about old king chem getting his next fix, she knew the sooner he got what he was after, the sooner he would be out of her hair.

“You helped find Ellie, and you took out your fair share of raiders. If you can negotiate a fair price with McNamara I'll cover the difference, on two conditions. First, I get any Med-x that got left behind. Second…you take your chems and you move on. It’s nothing personal, I just...I need things to go back to normal as soon as possible. This isn't easy for me, even if you have been decent company.”

Hancock grinned at her in that twisted but playful manner he seemed so fond of. “Decent company huh? Don't tell me, ol' handsome Hancock broke another heart?”

Anger flared up under Silver's skin follwed by a jolt of pain in her abdomen. “Oh please! Do you-do you honestly think that you-” Then she realized. She had been fooled again. That made her even angrier, but she refused to let him see it.

“Relax doll,” he said eventually. “I get where you're coming from. This place is your home. You just want it to stay the way it is.”

Silver nodded. “Right...” That smug insightful bastard

“I accept your generous offer. I’m sure doing business with you will be a real _pleasure_ .”

Silver frowned. “Do me a favor.”

“S'that?”

“Could you tell me what cooked your brain first? The rads or the chems?”

Hancock bellowed with laughter, laying a hand on his stomach. “Hey, I feel lied to. You said you wouldn't make any more jokes.”

Silver gave her best sneer. “Who's joking?”

Hancock stood from the table. An audible crack resonated from his knee as he stretched. 

“I don't mean to alarm you,” he said, “but I think we just had a conversation. Like normal people.”

“I'll be damned...” Silver whispered. She hoped her amazement sounded less genuine than it felt. 

Hancock followed Silver into the sitting area and perused through the bottles of liquor on the small table. “How about a night cap?”

“Sure.” Silver stretched her back, arms raised high over her head, and let out a soft groan.

Hancock selected a bottle of pre-war whiskey with a faded label and poured them both a drink.

The nagging cold had begun to naw away at her again and sent her into a fit of shivering. She desperately wanted to sleep but she could never relax enough to do so as long as a ghoul was present. 

She was doubtful she would be able to sleep even after he left. The acid in her stomach sloshed and churned and leapt into the back of her throat. She knew she would have to fight to keep her meal down tonight. Sleep would not come easy. 

Silver wrapped herself in a raggedy blanket that had somehow survived the trip from Capital, and curled up on the chaise to battle her shakes. Hancock delivered her drink and made himself comfortable in the remaining chair.

Silently, and without much acknowledgment from each other, they tipped their glasses back. 

Hancock hissed with satisfaction. “You know what this needs? A couple’a Mentats.” He jumped up and riffled through his pack in search of some. 

“You like them a lot...I've noticed you sneaking them when Paulette isn't looking.”

“Sure do. What about you?’ He called over his shoulder. “Is Med-X your pick? That's serious stuff ya know, easy to get hooked on.”

Silver felt her brow pucker. “I told you, your reasons for using and mine are different. I don't do it for fun...I do it to function. Calm-X is the one I need the most often. Psycho, Buffout, that’s all just garbage if you ask me.”

“You don’t ever do it just to unwind? Not even once and a while?” Hancock pushed, popping some Mentats in his mouth and continuing to search through his bag.

“No. Not ever.”

“Well then...What about the smooch?”

“It keeps me mellow. Keeps my head quiet. I don't smoke it straight and I don't really smoke down here. It's more of a light alternative to the Calm-X.” She answered. What did she expect, he was a junkie, and junkies never understood.

“Ever try this? Hancock asked, pulling a bottle out of his pack and tossing it to Silver.

Silver examined the bottle. Clear and covered with a fine layer of dirt, the bottle contained an offensively orange liquid. 

“Daddy-O? Yeah...once or twice. I experimented with a lot of things before I found the right chems and combinations to keep me stable...”

“You wanna hit? I'll trade you for a taste of that jet you have.”

Silver examined the bottle with mild interest. She didn't need it. She knew she didn't need it. But God did she want it. Daddy-O wasn’t part of her normal regiment but it did have its advantages. It was a tremendous distraction from her racing thoughts, and maybe it would help distract her from the searing pain in her stomach. There didn’t seem to be a downside. 

“Yeah...ok. A trade. But just one hit.”

“Deal.”

“The jet is in my duffel.” Silver instructed him, examining the consistency of the Daddy-O.

“I know, probably could have lifted it from you anytime, but petty theft isn’t really my style.”

“What would your constituents think?” Silver asked with a bit of a smirk.

“Exactly,” Hancock grinned back at her and retrieved the jet canister. "You got any needles for that?”

“No need. I’ll do it the old fashioned way.”

Hancock flopped down in the chair and took a deep huff of the specialized jet. “Suit yourself…”

Silver tilted her head back against the arm of the chaise. She held her eye open and dropped the liquid in, then again to the other eye. A soft elongated “Ahh” escaped her lips and she blinked lazily as the chem began to take the edge off. 

“Doesn’t that sting?”

“A bit…”

It was quiet then. The two of them were content to enjoy the effects of their chems washing over them. Silence didn’t last long with Hancock around though. 

“So...what do you do when you encounter ferals on the road?”

“What?”

“Feral ghouls, there’s no shortage of the poor bastards here in the Commonwealth. I’d be willing to bet they had a few back home...so how do you deal with them on the road?” 

“Oh…It depends...if we're prepared for them, in an area we know to expect them I can prepare myself. Find a defensible position or some high ground and I help take them out. If we get surprised though...”

“You switch off, like back at the office building...”

“Sometimes I shut down, sometimes I go into a frenzy, sometimes I run and hide. I never know how I'll react. I'm not in control when I'm like that. I’m not me anymore.”

Silver reached across the coffee table, holding out her hand expectantly. Hancock only stared at it vacantly. After an almost embarrassing amount of time passed, the ghoul realized she wanted her jet. He swapped the canister for the bottle of Daddy-O with a forlorn sigh.

“That is a grade A chem…you’ll have to give me the name of your dealer.”

“Doctor.”

“Huh?”

“I get them from a doctor, not a dealer. I told you, they aren’t for fun.”

“I see…and your sister knows you use?”  
Silver snorted in contempt. She shook the canister and took two puffs from the mouth piece, one deeper than the other. She was still shivering, and had begun to sweat as well. Clearly she was coming down with something and she made a mental note to go to the med bay in the morning for an immune booster. A tiny wave of relief rushed over her as the specialized jet worked its way into her system, but not enough to make her forget her discomfort.

“Who do you think got me started? It was her idea back in capital. Mum and dad didn’t know what to do with me after the incident…chems seemed as good a solution as any.”

“But…she got pissed as a wet cat when she saw that jet.”

“Yeah. She decided I didn’t need to be medicated anymore…thought I had become too dependant on the chems. Practically ordered me to stop. I lied and told her I’m off of them. She probably knows better than that but I think she wants to buy into the lie for a little while. 

Hancock frowned. “She sure didn’t have a problem doping you up when she needed to.”

“No. She sure didn’t.” 

Hancock seemed to pick up on the fact that this conversation was putting her on edge, so he changed the subject. “You said you worked triage back in the waste? What the hell did you mean?”

“Anyone from capital can tell you the whole bloody place is practically a war zone. No shortage of medical work to be done.”

“Yeah, that much I get. Who did you humpty-dumpty for?”

Silver wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “A mercenary group, The Two Bit Brothers. After I travelled with dad's caravan for a while I got good with a rifle and I realized there was better money out there to be made… I up and split on them. Practically disappeared except for the caps I would send back. It was all I could think to do to repay them for everything they had done for me.” 

Hancock eyed her critically. “You took up with mercs?”

“I said I was a gun for hire. Why should this surprise you?”

“You did. I just thought you meant for caravans. How did you get to triage then?”

“When they saw I had a bit of a talent for keeping people alive they moved me to a field medic and then triage. They moved me back and forth from the field to the medical center as needed. It was hectic but…I don’t know, fulfilling.”

“These mercs...what kind of work did they take?” Hancock questioned further.

Silver’s stomach lurched. “Is this where I'm supposed to defend my choices to you? Tell you we protected the weak and killed the wicked and never did anything wrong? Well things are a little messier in the wastes than they are here. We took the work we could get. Most of the time we were hired out by people just looking for a bit of extra protection, but we knocked over caravans and crossed out raider gangs, and sometimes we got paid to help gangs take each other out. We didn't raid settlements or attack the defenseless, but we weren't always on the up and up either.”

After a beat Silver felt obligated to defend herself. “I’m not proud of everything I did with them, but I can’t regret it either. I did what I had to.” 

Hancock poured himself another splash of whiskey and tipped it back down his throat. He seemed to be thinking over his next move. “People say a gun in the commonwealth, is an opportunity. A gun in the wastes is a necessity. I guess they aren’t kidding.”

Silver tucked her knees under her chin. “They aren’t kidding.”

Silver took a third puff of jet then discarded the canister onto the floor. She had hoped for another burst of relief but instead her discomfort swelled in her gut. She thought she had reached her limit and was going to lose her dinner right there but the wave crested and fell inside of her and she managed to keep it down. 

Chems had never made her feel worse before. Maybe she needed to talk to the doctor about getting some Addictol, just to be on the safe side. She knew the danger’s of withdraw, and while this didn’t feel the same, it was possible that’s what she was experiencing. She checked her watch and saw that it was nearly dawn.

She stood up, careful not to lose her hold on the blanket, and gestured towards the door. “Come on. Should be some beds free by now. I’ll show you where,” she announced with a bit of a cough. 

Hancock stood to follow her but a sudden flicker of surprise in his eyes stopped Silver before she turned around.

“Hey, you’ve got uh…you’ve sprung a leak there doll,” he said, sounding a bit confused as well as concerned.

“I-Wha-” Silver began, but then saw the droplets of blood that had landed on the blanket. Her fingers flew to her upper lip and she flinched when she felt the blood leaking from her nose. “What the hell?”

Hancock looked around for something to staunch the bleeding. “Do you get nose bleeds easy like?”

Silver opened her mouth to answer but stopped dead when she tasted blood. A barrage of dizziness crashed against the back of her skull. It pulled and tugged at her knees. Her vision tunneled and the pain in her stomach rose as if it was ready to rupture. 

She knew she was falling but she couldn’t will her body to right its self or brace for impact, then she felt her head knock against the floor. She was vaguely aware of the taste of blood and bile in her throat. She thought she heard Hancock curse, then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear me, what could the matter be? Mwahahahaa!!!  
> Any theories? I'd love to hear them lol


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in action! My laptop cooked itself so I had to type and edit this entirely on my phone so, I'm sure you'll notice more errors than usual, but I did it!

“Well shit…” Hancock muttered, dropping his unlit cigarette onto the floor between his boots.

He had seen overdoses before, so the vomiting and bleeding wasn’t out of place, but they were usually accompanied by fits or shaking, and Silver was still.

Hancock snapped back to his body and rushed over to where Silver lay.

“Hey kid, can you hear me? Hang in there. We'll set you right,” he coaxed, patting her cheek in an attempt to rouse her. She remained unresponsive, save for the line of blood and saliva that escaped from the corner of her mouth.

He knelt beside her crumpled form and turned her on her side. He had to keep her airways clear in case she threw up. If she was even breathing. He cupped his hand under her nose to check, and was relieved to feel a small puff of warm air pass over his skin. She was breathing, but not well.

He desperately tried to remember what Dr. Amari had drilled into Fahrenheit over and over again, should their beloved Mayor have too much of a good thing, but nothing came back to him.

“Come on damn it, give me something to work with here...”

He searched her throat for a pulse. He found one, surprisingly strong, but rapid. Wrong.

Moving her seemed dangerous. Or was it dangerous not to move her? He couldn't remember.

If it had been pills it would have been easier. You throw up pills and flush the system with water. Simple. Hancock didn't know how to flush out her blood. 

Then it occurred to him, maybe it wasn't an overdose at all. The bleeding in her mouth began to look an awful lot like radiation poisoning.

“Of course, you fuckin’...” Hancock grumbled, snatching up the vial of Daddy-O. He hadn't picked up on the rads before, they weren't very strong and had probably attributed the good feeling to the effects of the chem, but they were indeed there. He wasn't sure bet it might have been enough radiation to make a regular person sick. He had slipped her a dirty chem and didn't even know it.

Hancock scooped Silver up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder. He had to get her to the med bay. There was no other choice. If he didn't move her there might not be any time left to fix her.

He shuffled through the door and out into the hall without a single clue as to where he was headed. He didn't need to find the medical bay, he only had to find someone who knew where it was.

Unfortunately, it was so early in the morning, it was unlikely that any of the usual inhabitants of the vault would be up.

Hancock took off down the hall with a labored gait. Silver's head bounced against his shoulder, sending shocks of pain throughout his body. He was halfway down the hallway before he realized he should shift her to his other shoulder.

As he expected, the hallway was dark and deserted. She hadn't been kidding when she said no one bothered her back there. 

He contemplated entering one of the lodging rooms and asking if anyone there knew where a doctor was. He had two primary concerns with that however, the larger being that no one would know and he would have wasted time stopping, the second, that some folks might be alarmed by a shouting drug addled ghoul rousing them from their sleep in such a manner. He did not stop.

Hancock's eyes had just adjusted to the darkness of the hallway when he reached the door to the generator room. The door opened, revealing the generator room to be flooded with bright artificial light, returning him to near blindness.

He didn't have time to stand around blinking. He slowed his pace slightly and stumbled forward into the room. He tripped over tools and salvage parts along the way but he eventually reached the other side of the room.

“Hey!” Hancock began to shout, hoping security would hear him. “Hey, this girl needs a doctor!”

Hancock looked left then right, unsure of which path he should take. He quickly decided that returning to the vault's main hub would probably yield the best results for people, even if it was the opposite direction of the medical center.

“You just gotta hang on a little bit longer. You're gonna be ok,” Hancock puffed as he ran. He had nearly entered the main hub when his shouting drew the attention of someone on the upper level, who raced over to meet him.

“What in hell's name is going on? What's the matter?”

It was the stout but strong Commander Morrison who had manned the checkpoint earlier. He was without his coat or boots, but gripped a well cared for .44 pistol in his right hand.

“The hell happened?” he asked a bit out of breath. 

Hancock attempted to take a breath before trying to explain but the sound of the pistol cocking made him wheeze out the few words he could manage.

“She...she collapsed!”

The commander frowned and looked half a mind to punch Hancock in the mouth. “Are you lying to me?”

“I'm not lying. She needs a doctor!”

The commander looked Hancock over, then with an irritated sigh he tucked the pistol in his belt and lifted some of Silver's weight off of Hancock's shoulder. “Follow me and keep up.”

Their pace was increased now that the commander had stepped in to guide Hancock, and while sharing Silver's weight made her easier to lift, the difference in the two men's strides made for awkward ambling.  
The commander ordered the first security guard they came across to run ahead and let the doctor know they were coming. He ordered the next to return to Silver’s quarters and make sure it went undisturbed. It was a crime scene now.

A few vault dwellers peeked out to observe the commotion but most stayed inside their rooms. No one wanted to be a part of the fuss.

The medical bay was lit up brighter than a pyromaniac's Christmas tree. A gurney covered with a crisp white sheet was waiting by the door as well as a tired eyed man wearing a lab coat over his red plaid pajamas.

“Put her down there and back up, I need to examine her,” the man said, bringing a stethoscope to his ears and listening to her chest.

“Heart rate is rapid. There is blood in her mouth but her lungs sound clear. Probably from the stomach.”

A female doctor rushed around hooking Silver up to machines. She suctioned the blood from her throat and checked her breathing before declining to put her on a respirator.

“You should get a blood sample and throw it in the analyzer quickly Rachel. You two, what happened? We need to know in order to give her the proper care.”

Morrison strode closer to Hancock.“I was wondering the same thing. He came out of the back with her already like that. Explain yourself ghoul.

Hancock felt a wave of anxiety rise up in his chest. He hadn't felt this way since he was a teenager, the first time his mother had caught him smoking. The panic of being caught doing something fun, but foolish.

“We were trading chems. In her room. She was a little chilled but she seemed alright enough, then she dropped, I don't know what happened.”

“Chems,” the male doctor muttered. “Of course. I need to know what she took and how much.”

“If I remember right it was Calm-X, some kind of jet cocktail, smooch cigars, and some Daddy-O. I don't think it was the chems though, I thi-”

“Junkies never want to blame the chems,” the commander interrupted.

“Would ya shut up and listen to me? I think the Daddy-O I gave her might have been a bit on the radioactive side. You should check for rad poisoning.”

The male doctor gave Hancock something of a sneer and shook his head. “I can assure you, it isn't radiation poisoning. But it is possible it was something in one of the chems. Commander, I'll need you to send one of your men over to her quarters and collect her chems. I'll need to test them.”

“All due respect doc, but what's the point? I think it's clear what happened here,” Morrison said, making no effort to hide his disapproval. “You wanna do her some good, hand over her dirtbag dealer here to me.”

“Commander Morrison, miss Donahue has been medicating herself with chems for years. She has been in the guided care of physicians for the majority of that time, and she has never been recorded to have any symptoms of addiction, nor has she had a known overdose. For her to suddenly go buck wild and take a dose large enough to cause this level of harm to her body...well, that simply doesn't seem like the Silverfish I've come to know.”

“So then...that ghoul must have spiked something, drugged her on purpose. Either way I'm taking him to a holding cell.”

“Back off friend, I didn't do nothin’ to the girl,” Hancock growled.

“I need him first Morrison. I need to test his blood as well.”

The commander glared at Hancock then took a seat on a stool. “Fine. I'll wait.”

“Rachael, how is she looking?”

“Not great...she needs a blood transfusion and fluids,” the woman said, examining a machine.  
“I'll leave you to it then. I'll examine him.”

“Yes Dr. Forsythe”

The doctor indicated for Hancock to take a seat and sat down himself in a desk chair. 

“I'm Doctor Jacob Forsythe. You are?”

“John.”

“Alright, let's get you looked at John.”

He then withdrew a penlight from his breast pocket and shone it in Hancock's eye. He sighed when he realized the foolishness of his exam and threw the pen down on a small work table between them.

“Is your vision clear?” he asked

“Was, till you stuck the damn sun in my eye…”

“Do you feel any muscle weakness? Nausea? Dizziness?”

“Doc, I hardly even feel the chems after all that running around. I'm fine.”

“But you and Silverfish took all of the same drugs?”

“Yeah. No, wait, I didn't have any of those smooch cigars she smokes, but she's been smoking those for days and she's been fine.”

“No, I wouldn't expect smooch could do this much damage. So that begs the question how much of the others did she take?”

“Not enough to do that to her. Except...er.. she locked herself in the bathroom for quite a spell. She could have been taking something then. Who knows.”

The doctor nodded. “Right. Morrison, could you send someone to the Donahue residence? We’ll need someone with the code to open the door and her family should be made known of her collapse. Make sure they bring any chems they find and that they search her bathroom.”

“Alright, I'll send someone. You going to keep him here then?”

“Yes, fot a bit longer.”

“Fine...fine. I'll get you the chems. You figure out what's wrong with the girl. We don't need a homicide on our hands.”

“You seem to have little faith in my abilities as a doctor…”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“The chems, commander. I’ll need them right away.”

The commander grunted and left the room.

*

Thirteen minutes later Paulette stormed into the room. The look on her face was more tired than worried. She had probably only just drifted off to sleep by the time the commander came knocking on her door. 

“What the hell is this about? What happened to Silver?” she asked the doctor, then looked to Hancock. 

“Why are you here?”

“I-er...I brought her here. She-”

“Doc, what happened?" 

“Well miss Donahue, to be perfectly honest, we don’t know just yet. Something caused her to collapse in her room and this man was kind enough to bring her here. I take it you know him?”

“He helped us bring the caravan in. Why were you in Silver’s room?”

“We were-”

“Wait, did you have something to do with this?” Paulette questioned Hancock, her anger coming across strong now.

“I may have given her radiation poisoning, but not on purpose…”

Paulette opened her mouth to shout then closed it abruptly. Hancock could see the gears turning in her head.

Paulette's anger slipped out of her expression, she now appeared perplexed. “Radiation poisoning?”

“Yeah, but no one seems to be interested in that theory.”

“That's not what's wrong with her,” Paulette said with a shake of her head.

“Why is it you're all so dismissive of radiation poisoning? There was a war ya know…”

“Because that's not why she's sick!” Paulette shouted, balling up her fists tightly at her sides.

“Miss Donahue, please, lower your voice. Your sister is resting.”

“What the hell is going on? How do you know it ain't rad poisoning?”

“John,” spoke Paulette, “It's simply not possible. Silver is...She's kind of like you. Rads don't make her sick. They don't have any positive effects on her like they do for ghouls, but as far as we've ever been able to tell, they don't hurt her either. Silver has never used a dose of rad away in her life.”

The doctor nodded, making a few notes. “Therefore, it is safe to assume she hasn't suddenly succumb to radiation poisoning with such a minimal dose.”

Hancock rubbed his chin. “Can't get rad sick huh? Well that's something....but then, what the hell is happening?”

“That's the question isn't it?” the doctor muttered, biting the end of his pen.

Paulette swept a hand through her hair and blinked rapidly. “Dr.Forsythe, please, you must have some idea about what is wrong with my sister. What will I tell my parents? They'll be worried sick…”

“Well, I have a few thoughts...there was blood in her stomach. I thought it might me some sort of ruptured ulcer or something but I can't be certain...has her stomach been worse lately?”

“Awful actually, she's pickier than ever with her food and she's always complaining she feels like tossing her lunch. She's always had a bad stomach..it just seemed normal.”

“Her medical notes seem to assert that her digestive system has always been irregular. I know that you don't want to think of the possibility, but with these symptoms this could very well be a cancer of the stomach. Of course we will have no way of knowing until the bloodwork comes back. Even then it may not be clear. I can't make any sort of diagnosis until then but...you may want to prepare your parents for bad news…”

Paulette sighed, puffing out her cheeks as she did so. Her eyes glistened under the artificial lights, but no tears fell. “Alright doc. Thanks.”

“You should go on home miss Donahue. I'll be sure to let you know the results of our tests as soon as they come back.”

Paulette shook her head. “If it's all the same to you Doctor, I think I'll stay. Not like I'll be able to sleep now.”

“I understand. Feel free to stay. And er, you?” The doctor turned to address Hancock. “What will you be doing?”

Hancock shrugged. “She was just about to take me to the guest boarding before she dropped...

“I understand. Well, I have to return to my room, I can show you the way. I wouldn't recommend you wander in the vault anymore tonight. Commander Morrison is a good man, and just, but he has very strong convictions and I wouldn't put it past him to lock you up for the night if he caught you up and about.”

“Thanks doc but eh...what makes you so sure I'm not the guilty party. You don't know me from a synth.”

“You brought her here alive. With an injury no less. Wouldn't make sense,” Jacob muttered, returning to his paperwork.

Paulette frowned at Hancock. "I wouldn't make a run for it either. Might not get too far…”

Hancock glanced at Paulette and realized what she had meant. “Don't tell me you think I had something to do with this? You been nothing but good to me, why would I want to hurt your sister?”

“She almost shot you. People have done worse for slighter offenses than that. You got what you were after right? What do you need her for now? Maybe you were just playing nice out on the road, to get what you needed.”

“You're off it sister, I didn't do a damn thing to Silver.”

“It makes perfect sense to me. She hates ghouls, wouldn't you be better off if someone like that was dead?”

Hancock rose to his feet and glared down at Paulette. “You're wrong. I actually fucking like your sister, she's a good kid. And you're dead wrong about her. She is scared of ghouls, she doesn't hate them. There’s a difference.”

Paulette went quiet. Hancock shook his head and left the room to wait for the doctor. He was tired of the Donahues.

*

Hancock rarely had difficulty falling asleep. When he found he needed sleep, which wasn't often, he usually drifted right off into a drug induced dream land.

Tonight he was uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the lumpy mattress or the constant coughing, snoring, or wheezing, of the dozen other travelers sleeping in the room with him. He was used to noise, and the mattress was as soft as a cloud compared to the cold hard ground he had been sleeping on for the past few days. 

It took him a while to realize he was worried. Worried about Silver Donahue, sleeping in the medical bay, with dried blood on her chin.

If she couldn't get radiation poisoning then it really wasn't his fault she was sick. Even if she had overdosed in the bathroom, it wasn't his problem.

Hancock rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.

“That was no overdose, he grumbled. Something is up.”

But whatever it was, it would have to wait until he woke up.

When Hancock awoke he had trouble remembering where he was, and he had no idea what time it was. This wasn’t much different from most mornings for him though. He examined the gray walls and took in the scent of bleach cleaner

It was almost enjoyable to be confused, unaware of what was happening, just for a little while. It wasn't long until he began to piece things back together. He was in the vault guest lodging. The room was nearly empty now, save for a few late sleepers and a mother nursing her baby. Hancock smiled at her sheepishly as he attempted to gather his things to leave. She merely smiled back and returned to her mothering.

Hancock stumbled into the hall, still a bit confused, and eventually wandered into the humming generator room.

“The kitchen is out and to the left. Move it.” Ordered one of the workers shuffling around with a clip board.

Hancock grumped his way out of the room and found his way to the vault hub.

He was halfway through a bowl of sugar bombs before he remembered Silverfish was in the medical bay, and the doctor probably had her results back. He stood, and bumbled his way back to the clinic from memory.

Silver was laying in the same bed she had been last night, only now she had been redressed and tucked under some blankets. Someone had taken a brush through her hair and her face had been washed clean of blood.

No one else was in the room now, but Hancock assumed it had been Paulette’s doing. He sat down in a chair by Silver's bed and watched her for a few moments. He chewed at his thumb nail, wondering if he should leave before someone saw him there alone with her. The security commander already thought he had something to do with Silver getting sick. Hancock crossed his boot over his knee, causing the chair to squeak. Silver's eyes fluttered open in groggy alarm, and slowly patrolled the room before finding Hancock.

“Hey there...You're awake huh?”

“Hey,” she answered, her voice cracking, probably due to a dry throat.

“You're still here, incase no one told ya…”

“So are you. What happened?”

Hancock scratched under his jaw. “You tell me. You hit the ground like a sack of tatos...did you...did you take too much of something?”

Silver closed her eyes and strained her mind to remember. “I have no idea. I just feel sick...Your shoulder…”

“Yeah?”

“You didn't reopen the wound did you?”

Hancock grinned at her. “Nah, they're good stitches. I had a good doctor.”

“Medic,” Silver chuckled. 

“What?”

“I was a medic...not a doctor.”

Doctor Forsythe, now dressed more properly for his, profession entered the room. “Ah, you came back...can't say I expected that.”

“How is she doc?” Hancock asked, glossing over his comment.

“Better, after some fluids and a blood transfusion, she perked up a bit. You're a fighter, I'll give you that miss Donahue.”

Silver faked a smile. “Thanks. So did you figure out what the hell happened to me?”

“I'm afraid it's not quite that simple. The results of your blood tests back, but they still need to be analyzed more closely before we can pinpoint what caused her collapse.”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying you have nothing,” Hancock said with a snort. He stood from his seat and slowly began to pace the room.

“No, I wouldn’t say nothing…”

Hancock crossed his arms over his chest. “Then what do you know?”

“Her blood showed high levels of anti radiation medication. In most ordinary people it would cause some minor discomfort but given Miss. Donahue’s condition...anti-radiation medication in that dosage...it would become toxic.”

“She was pumped full of RadAway?” Hancock asked, scratching his forehead. 

“Yes, it would appear to be a close chemical match to RadAway.”

“RadAway?” Silver coughed out. “Dr. Forsythe, I didn't take any RadAway, that stuff is awful...are you saying someone shot me up and I didn't notice?”

“No, I don't think that's the case. The amount we found in your system...you couldn't have been injected with that amount. Such a high dose injected rapidly would have killed you." 

“Yeah, and I almost died.”

“It would have killed you instantly. I can assure you, you would not have been entertaining a guest.”

Silver rubbed her eyes. “So how the hell did it get in my system?”

“That's our point of investigation. We took some scans and judging my the extent of the damage to your cells...the chemicals have been building up in your body for quite some time now. This is the kind of damage we would expect to see in a patient that has had prolonged exposure to low to mid levels of radiation…”

“So, what? I've been coming into contact with the stuff on a daily basis?”

“We can't be sure of that.”

“Well how long then?”

“We can't tell for certain. A year or less.”

“Well where is it coming from?”

“We can't be sure of that either…”

“You must have an idea.”

“The greatest amount of damage was done to your liver and kidneys, responsible for cleansing the blood. This is likely because the RadAway is entering your bloodstream almost directly. That means you probably aren't ingesting it in your food. We would expect more damage to your stomach if that were the case.”

Silver glared at the doctor. “So it's exactly like someone is injecting me, only no one is injecting me.”

“Poison..”. Hancock murmured, fingers pressed to his lips.

Doctor Forsythe looked up from his clipboard. “Excuse me?”

“Someone is poisoning you,” Hancock repeated. “Someone close to you.”

Silver sat up in bed, to better confront his allegations. “That's ridiculous, who would do that?”

“I agree, it's a bit early on to be making those sorts of accusations,” said the doctor.

“Think about it, you have to admit you have enemies here.”

“But if they aren't poisoning my food, which would be difficult enough, how are they doing it? And who?”

“Like I said...probably someone close to you.”

Silver threw off her blankets and planted her feet on the floor. "You mean you think it's someone in my family? Are you crazy?”

“Miss Donahue please, you shouldn't be out of bed!” Cried the poor doctor.

“I don't know. That guy at the bar was a real prick. I dont like that Morrison either. I'm pretty sure it's mutual. Then again, they say poison is a woman's weapon, so…”

Silver was on the move in the blink of an eye. Her face was a distorted mask of rage and pain. She tore out her iv and took the two thunderous steps she needed to reach Hancock.

He started to open his mouth to speak but was silenced by the sound of her fist colliding with his jaw. The solid crack of knuckles connecting with bone silenced the room. Hancock staggered back with a grunt and raised a hand to his face in surprise.

“Don't you ever talk about my sister like that!” Silver shouted, on the verge of tears. 

“Don't you ever dare...” She began again, but then she wobbled on her feet. 

Her eyes glazed over, her hands reached out to find support but there was nothing nearby. Her claws swiped air before she tumbled backwards. She crashed into a cart of medical supplies and dumped its contents across the floor with near deafening sound. 

“She's still got the poison in her system” muttered Dr Forsythe.

Silver moaned and cradled her stomach in her arms. The female doctor rushed over and thrust a bucket under her chin just in time. She emptied her stomach once, twice, but the third time there was nothing left and the dry heave left her coughing and spitting. The lady gave Silver a can of water. Silver rinsed out her mouth and spit into the bucket several times. The woman used the water to dampen a cloth and wiped clean Silver's watering eyes, then her mouth.

Ordinarily Hancock had no mercy for someone stupid enough to sucker punch him but giving a beat down to a woman that was potentially dying from poison wasn't exactly sportsmanlike. He rubbed his aching jaw and pushed against his teeth with his tongue to make sure she hadn't knocked any lose. He tasted blood. Hancock wondered if maybe he had actually deserved the punch and decided that even if Silverfish recovered, there would be no joy in retaliation, so he let the punch slide. 

“There is all the proof you need...her name was the first to cross your mind. The way you reacted just now means you know she's capable of doing it. She was sure eager enough to pin the blame on me.”

Hancock snatched up his pack and moved towards the door.

“You probably need a bit of time to yourself. I'll show myself out.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be posting again! Enjoy <3

Silver laid in bed, her eyes shut tight, trying to combat the persistent wave of nausea that swirled around in her gut. She wasn't sure if it was nerves or the poison. Probably both.

She tried to remember what had happened the night before but nothing came back to her. Nothing solid anyway.

“Paulie,” Silver moaned, reaching forward. “Paulie, you know I didn't do this right? You know I didn't…”

Paulette took her hand and soothingly stroked it. “I know you didn't Sil, go back to sleep.”

“I need to figure this out…”

“You need to get better. Go to sleep.”

“He didn't do it either. John. He didn't do this.”

Paulette’s lips pinched and almost frowned, then didn't. “You clocked him a good one. You always did have a mean left hook.”

“I didn't mean to hit him. It just happened...”

“Maybe having him around is good for you. That's probably the first time you've ever intentionally touched a ghoul.”

“Yeah, I think so…the touching part, not the good for me part.”

“What did you hit him for anyways?”

Silver turned her head away from her sister, towards the wall. “He looked like he needed it…”

Paulette sighed and shook her head. After a brief silence she spoke again. “I know you didn't do this on purpose sis...but you have to take it easy on the chems. You can't put your body through this.”

Silver’s head snapped back to Paulette so quickly she heard her neck pop. “You're blaming the chems? You actually think I was stupid enough to overdose?”

“Not stupid. People make mistakes. You had an accident…”

“I didn't fall down a flight of stairs or forget to tie down a pack. Those are accidents. Those are mistakes. Paulette, this wasn't an accident. This wasn't my fault.”

“Maybe. No one knows that for sure though. Would you admit it if it had been? You? Always so proud?”

“I know it for sure! Why isn't my word good enough for you?”

“This isn't just about you you know. You have a family. What about me? How am I supposed to tell mom and dad you had a little too much fun and died from an overdose? Or worse, that you did it on purpose. How do I explain that to them? To Frannie?”

Silver sat up in her bed. “Don't you dare lecture me about family. I have dedicated my entire life to protecting this family. I'm the reason you've been able to live your life! Get married, have a kid, who was taking care of everyone? Me! And I never complained. I never doubted you. I did what was best for my family because I love them. Don't you ever question that.”

“You ran away! Disappeared in the night! You stole from papa!” Paulette cried.

“I left so I could make us a better life. I did what I had to, for all of you. I knew mum would be heartbroken, I couldn't stand to see that. It was better that way, even if it still hurt….and it's thanks to my leaving that we could afford to travel out of the wastes. We're here, safe, because of me.”

“You haven't been the same since you came home...something has changed.”

“A lot has changed. You think I've turned into some wild thrill seeker? That this is fun for me? When have I ever treated life like a game Paulie? I grew up. When will you?”

Paulette snorted and gave Silver a disapproving look.

“Where do you get off judging me? I'm so exhausted from taking care of you my body is finally paying the price. If this is anyone's fault it's yours!” Silver yelled, pointing a black nail at Paulette’s chest.

“This is my fault? Are you kidding me? When are going to start taking responsibility for your life Silver?” Paulette fired back.

Silver's expression darkened. “Maybe I could if I wasn't too busy taking your bullshit all the time. You're suffocating! I'm not your baby sister anymore, I can make my own decisions!”

Paulette leapt from her seat.“I'm suffocating? You're unbearable! You're the most caustic person I've ever known. You don't know how glad I am sometimes that we aren't actually related!”

The room went quiet. Both women were stunned by what had just been said. Silver's face went slack and her fists unclenched.

Paulette held a hand over her mouth for a moment, as if she could stuff the words back inside.

“Sil, I...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-”

Silver cut her off with an icy glare. “If that's how you really feel you should go home. Visiting hours are for family members only.”

“Silver-"

“Go. Home.”

Paulette looked at Silver for a long time, trying to find something to say, but the right words never came. Eventually she took her leave, slinking out like a kicked dog.

Her parents came to visit her some hours later. Her mother attempted to smooth things over but Silver refused to speak about it.

Some time later Lane brought Frannie to visit. She didn't really understand why Silver was there, or why she couldn't go play with her, but was happy to talk with her for a while about all the things Silver had missed while she was gone.

Lane clung to Silver's hand like a child. For a while she tolerated it but after the third time he clamped down too hard she swatted him away. He left shortly after that.

She couldn't stand him when he was like that. He was too kind and soft, and she was a sharp hard thing, intent on dealing damage. Telling him about the poisoning would only hurt him more. She would let someone else tell him.

Silver was discharged from the medical center that evening. Her mother had brought her a fresh change of clothes, jeans and a faded green cotton shirt advertising a long gone pub. She ponytailed her hair high and tight without bothering to brush it again, and didn’t lace her boots.

“You sure you feel well enough to leave?” Doctor Forsythe asked her as she gathered her things. “You could stay one more night. I'm sure all the substance analysis will be in by then.”

“Thanks doc, but I really just want to go home.”

“Very well then. I shouldn't have to remind you, but, you should avoid taking any drugs for the next 48 hours. Until we know what caused the damage to your system, we can't risk any further upsets.”

“I understand. Let's just figure this out quick ok?”

“That is my intention miss Donahue.”

When Silver left the med bay Hancock was waiting for her. His hat had been returned to his head but he remained coatless. The vault was surprisingly warm that day.

She stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”

Hancock shrugged and stamped out his cigarette in an ashtray. “I believe we had an accord.”

“That was before I walloped you for accusing my sister of poisoning me. Go back to Goodneighbor, mayor,” Silver jeered, turning to walk away.

“Aww, don’t be that way. I saved your life. That’s gotta count for something.”

Silver whirled around to snap at the pushy ghoul but a wave of dizziness stopped her.

“Whoa there...you ok?” He asked her, ready to right her should she need it.

“I’m fine…”

“You sure?”

Silver hardly heard his words. Her heart was pounding in her ears like a crashing storm. She remembered the fear of the night before, the way Monroe looked at her, the growl of the ferals crawling through the walls to get to her.

She knew none of it was real, just her primitive brain over reacting to stress, but she couldn't shut it down. Fire and ice coursed under her skin and a panicked flush seared her face.

“Stop it,” she hissed to herself. “Stop it!”

But her body refused her command. The weight set in against her chest and she felt as if she were gasping for breath. Her lungs simply would not fill.

Silver covered her ears. She didn’t want to hear the uncut nails and gnashing teeth of the ferals. Monroe calling her a freak. Paulette screaming at her. But the sound was deafening.

She dropped to her knees, hot angry tears slipping out of her eyes against her will. Before she knew what was happening she was counting. From ten to one, over and over, whimpering the numbers. She couldn’t hear her own voice anymore, but she kept counting. The numbers came too fast. Her breathing wouldn’t slow. It was all wrong and she couldn’t fix it.

“Why? Why now?” she cried, her words little more than sharp gasps.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there wheezing before she felt Hancock’s palm on her back. He wasn’t doing anything, just hovering over her, watching, but that was enough. Just knowing someone was there helped. The numbers slowed and so did her breathing. She kept counting long after her legs had gone numb. Then she cried. Bitter painful tears flowed out of her in a flood. Hancock didn’t say a word.

When at last Silver felt in control again she uncovered her ears and looked up. Hancock was sitting in the hallway beside her, cross legged, hand tentatively placed between her shoulder blades. He looked at her a long time before talking.

“Are you back?” he asked, removing his hand.

Silver wiped her eyes on her shirt and mustered the strength to give him a nod.

“You were yelling...you scared the hell out of me. You...you scratched your face. It’s bleedin’ a bit.”

“I did?” Silver mumbled, now feeling the sting of her salt tears in the fresh wound.

“Yeah. Are you sure you want to leave the hospital? You’d be safe there.”

“I want to go home…”

Hancock flicked his finger against his boot a few times and sighed. “Alright. Let me walk you back.”

Hancock stood up and offered his hand to Silver. She shivered and politely declined.

A few feet down the hall she suddenly spoke up. “We had a fight,.” she whispered.

Hancock let out a breathy chuckle. “I know we did. I was there. The guy you socked in the jaw, remember?”

“No. Paulie and I.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nothing out of the usual.”

Silver stopped walking. “It was different this time. It wasn’t just bickering. She...she…”

Hancock gingerly took Silver by the back of the arm and spurred her onward. “Don’t worry about that now. Let’s get you home.”

For once the ghoul didn’t want to talk. Silver was a little shocked, but mostly overwhelmed with relief. She wasn't capable of putting her feelings into words right now, or dealing with the mouthy mayor.

“ _What a liar,_ ” she thought.

He could have asked Lane to talk to McNamara, or gone to the overseer himself. He didn't need her to get what he was after, but he waited for her all day anyways.

“ _You were worried about me, you ass._ ”

A mixture of heart warming affection and distrust brewed in her gut. She was stuck on the details, but she had no intention of asking about them either.

“ _Why would he care I wonder?_ ”

Neither of them spoke until they reached Silver's door.

Hancock handed her her bag and there was suddenly an awkward silence both of them attempted to ignore.

“Thank you,” Silver blurted out.

“Yeah, sure. I needed to stretch my legs anyways.”

Silver shook her head and lowered her gaze. “No, I mean...I mean thanks for sitting with me, back there. I...I needed help. You did good.”

“Oh, that. Hey, sometimes people break down. You did almost die. You've got the right to be a little off your game I'd say.”

Silver laughed, but the sound was cut off by a sudden catching sob. The action made her cheek sting anew and she held her fingers to the abrasion.

“I'm sorry I hit you.”

“I crossed the line. Been hit for less. Besides, I gotta admit, I respect that kind of loyalty. And anyone that can throw a punch like that.”

“Thanks,” Silver tittered, feeling her face flush.

“You were the one? The one who carried me to the infirmary I mean…”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose I should thank you for that too…So, this is really happening, isn’t it? Someone actually tried to kill me…”

“Uh-yeah...yeah, it is. But you know what, it’s probably a stroke of luck. If you’re making enemies somewhere, you’re probably making friends somewhere else right? In the end, you'll be better off, you'll see. We’ll get this straightened out.”

“We?”

“Yeah, sure, we. I need my envoy and all.” Hancock smiled at her. “Drink?”

“God no...I just want to sleep…”

Hancock nodded understandingly. “I bet. Go rest up.”

“Tonight.”

“Huh?”

“I'll talk to the overseer, so come back later tonight.”

Hancock bowed his head and tipped his hat so slightly Silver wasn't sure that it qualified. “Tonight then.”

With that he turned and walked away, one hand in his pocket, the other waving casually over his shoulder.

*

Silver slept dreamlessly for hours. She wondered how long she could have slept if the knock at her door had never come. Maybe she would have slept forever.

Her eyes stung from crying and her mouth felt impossibly dry. She felt the tiny sting of pain from her scratch and her anger came flooding back.

How could her sister have said that to her? How could she have fallen apart like that, in front of someone of all things?

Silver shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She didn't want to think about that now. She swallowed down her frustration and forced her sorrow into a tiny hard pebble that sat in her stomach.

She tumbled out of bed gracelessly, nearly losing one of her socks, and shuffled over to the door.

She didn't bother to check who it was. Paulie never knocked, and there was only one other person in the vault that would be interested in seeing her right now.

“Mr. Mayor,” she addressed him, retreating into her den to allow him to enter.

“Evenin’,” he replied, removing his hat. “Any news?”

“100 caps.”

“What?”

“100 caps and everything the DeLucas left behind is yours.”

“Ah, gottcha.”

“Sound fair?”

“Sounds...manageable.”

“How much do you have?”

“Less than that…”

Silver rolled her eyes. “Of course…”

Hancock sat in the same chair he had the night before. “Will I be able to appraise the merchandise?”

“I told her you’d want to. She agreed to let you take a look.”

“Dandy. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Another night in the bunk house huh? Ah well, could be worse. How are you feeling?”

Silver poured herself a glass of water from the bathroom sink and returned to the living room. “I’m better. I was just tired.”

“Your stomach?”

“Still hurts. The results of all those tests should be ready soon. I have to go back to see the doctor tonight. Hopefully by then we’ll know what happened.”

Hancock rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, since I’ve only known you for a short time, I’m just about the only person who couldn’t have poisoned you long term like this. Maybe I should be there. An objective third party or what have ya. What do you think?”

“What?”

“I don't know it's just, all the folks you trust are your prime suspects for tryin’ to kill you. You need somebody in your corner is all.”

“And that's you?”

“You got anyone else?”

“No...I guess I really don't.”

“Then that's me.”

Silver gave a short bitter laugh. “Great, great…”

“You scared?”

“About?”

“Finding out who might have done this to you.”

Silver shook her head, feeling her strength return to her briefly. “I'm not worried. I'm going to find out who did this, and put them in the ground.”

“Mm...that sounds like the right move to me,” Hancock purred, as if he were proud.

“Come on. Let's go get your chems. I have an appointment with the doctor.”

*  
Overseer McNamara was a stern woman, but obviously clever, and not entirely unreasonable. Silver had never had a reason to dislike her. In fact, Silver had her suspicions that McNamara was a lot of fun after a few glasses of wine.

She parted with the lock box found in the DeLuca residence without much fuss, all the while, feigning ignorance on it’s contents. Hancock handed over his last 38 caps, and as promised, Silver covered the difference. The stash, as she predicted, had contained mostly jet, but there had been a few doses of Med-X for her. Hancock was as pleased as punch with his haul. Picking up canisters of chems and shaking them like a child checking out their Christmas gifts.

She felt over the smooth vial in her pocket longingly. Even though she could do with the pain blocker, and she knew they couldn’t possibly be poisoned, she agreed with the doctor. She couldn’t afford any further upsets to her body.

They returned to her room before they had to head to the med bay. Hancock sampled the DeLuca’s jet and found it agreeable. Silver dozed in her bed but could never slip into a deep enough to sleep to get any actual rest. An hour later Hancock woke Silver by gently kicking the foot of her bed.

She moaned and rolled over to hide in her bedcovers.

“Come on doll, time to see the good doctor. Gotta get up.”

“I can’t…”

“You really can’t, or you just think you can’t?”

“I can,” she grumbled, rolling back over.

“You’re hot.”

“What?” Silver sputtered, sitting up in a blind panic.

“You’re all flushed and sweatin’ and stuff. You’re hot. You runin’ a fever?”

“Oh...maybe.”

“Not that that isn't an attractive look for you or anything,” Hancock teased.

Silver snorted in disgust and threw the blankets back in a huff.

“You gonna punch me again? Give me a right straight this time?”

“No, but I might throw up in that hat of yours while you're not looking…”

“Point made.”

Silver pulled herself out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up. And vomit.

Hancock was just finishing his cigarette when she returned. They left without saying a word.  
As they walked down the hallway Silver caught herself stealing glances in Hancock’s direction. He was less and less how she had imagined him to be. His being a ghoul hadn't hindered his ability to calm her down. Paulie was typically the only person that could pull her out of an attack like that, but he had done it just as well. She was confused, but equally impressed.

As it turned out, they were the last to arrive at the med bay. Paulie, Lane, and Jax sat on the bed nearest the wall. Her parents stood by the doctor’s desk, looking nervous. Commander Morrison and two other security officers stood to the far left.

“Well now,” Hancock whispered just low enough for Silver to hear. “Congrats, looks like you're throwing the social affair of the season.”

“Apparently…”

“Commander Morrison, I fully appreciate your dedication to the pursuit of justice in this matter, but for now, doctor patient confidentiality takes precedence. Miss Donahue has the right to be informed of her health privately.”

“It's ok Doc. I want everyone to hear it from your mouth directly. No room for confusion.”

“Are you sure? This is a private matter, you have the same rights as any other patient.”

Silver looked to Hancock who gave her a confident nod.

“They can stay. They all need to know the truth, Silver assured the doctor before taking a seat at his desk. Hancock elected to stand.

“Very well then. As you know, we collected samples from all the chems and medical supplies we found in your living space. Of all the tests, three samples returned a positive match for the radiation cleanser. The first was the three vials of Calm-X, prescribed by myself. They of course, were in perfect condition when they were given to you.”

“Which means they were poisoned after I picked them up.”

“Most likely. All of our medications are kept under lock and key here. Unless you're casting suspicion on Amanda or myself, it is fairly safe to assume that the contamination occurred while in your possession,” the doctor explained.

Silver nodded. “Right. What else?”

“The second sample that tested positive was a canister of hybrid Jet, imported from Diamond City, purchased at my recommendation. It could have easily been tampered with at any point, by anyone who handled it. There is no way to rule this sample as more than a red herring, but the radiation cure it was contaminated with was an 83% match for the chemical used in the other two samples. It's more than likely they were poisoned by the same person using the same substance.”

The doctor paused but no one spoke. Clearing his throat he continued.

“The likelihood of all of these items being accidentally contaminated by a radiation cleanser is...slim. It is my professional opinion that these substances have been deliberately tampered with. Someone is indeed poisoning you miss Donahue.”

Silver’s mother gasped softly. Her father held on to her in an attempt to comfort her. Jax jolted a bit and whispered something to Lane. Lane didn't appear to hear him though, and stared slack jawed at Silver in disbelief.

Silver stared back, unable to ask the doctor to continue. Unsure if she wanted him to.

“I knew it,” spoke the commander. “Doctor Forsythe, who am I taking in?”

“There lies the problem I'm afraid. We have no real way of figuring out who tampered with the drugs based on the tests. All I can say with certainty is that the fact that you were poisoned with Rad-Away implies that whoever was behind this was aware of your particular allergy to the drug. While it could certainly kill a normal person, the dosage would have to be astronomical, and administered all at once, not in steady increments as we believe it has been introduced to your body. This would support the theory that the culprit is indeed someone close to you.”

All eyes moved from the doctor, to Silver, then to one another.

Silver nearly smiled. It was a curious thing how suspicion could spread so quickly. She reminded herself one of them was likely her assailant and her amusement burned up.

“The third contaminated sample we collected came from your imported cigars.”

Silver dropped the pen she had been fidgeting with to the floor. “My...my cigars?” she questioned, feeling her stomach tighten in on itself and her mouth go dry.

“Doctor Forsythe, I import those cigars myself. The only person that handles them is the wastelander that makes them, his caravanner, and me. They get locked up in my room after that. I highly doubt that my doctor, my chemist, and my cigar dealer all decided to poison me at once. If...If someone here poisoned my cigars that means they know my door code.”

“Not necessarily ,” Hancock spoke up. “Could have been hacked. Plenty of people down here good with computers.”

Lane stood up. “No. Not possible. I-I programed that terminal myself. If the wrong code is entered an alarm will sound. I wanted her to feel safe back there all alone, with all those strangers...someone would have to be pretty damn lucky to have guessed the code on the first try. I programed it myself...”

“So that means you know the code then?” Hancock asked, reaching for a cigarette, then remembering where he was.

Lane’s face was contorted with panic and guilt. “No, I don't know the code to her door. Silver changed it like I told her she should. I knock, same as anyone else.”

Hancock rubbed his chin. “So then...they probably knew your new pass code.”

Silver nodded.

“Well,” began the doctor “that should at least narrow down the list of possible suspects.”

Commander Morrison crossed the room. “That’s right Silver, there shouldn’t be too many people with the code.”

Silver stared at a shelf, wide eyed. She felt frozen to her very core. “Mum, dad, Paulie. Everyone who knows it is in this room, aside from the overseer.”

“Doesn't count the husband or the boy out,” Morrison grunted.

“No, I guess not…” Silver mumbled, feeling less human by the second. “The real question is, how did they get to my Calm-X prescription. I never leave it unattended. It’s with me at all times. How could they have poisoned it?”

Once again, everyone looked around the room, everyone trying to spot the odd man out.

Mrs. Donahue was twisting her gown nervously. Silver noticed because she had the same habit.

“Mum, is something the matter? Do you know something?”

Her mother frowned then forced a smile. “You-you didn’t pick up your last prescription dear, don’t you remember? Your father did. He was there for his heart pills and you had forgotten to pick it up. We...we gave it to Paulie to give to you...We didn’t think anything of it, but darling-”

“Paulette had my chems?”

“Yes, but-”

Silver whirled around to face her sister. There was fury in her metallic eyes, and sorrow, and so much confusion.

“What’s going on? I don't understand...Paulie, tell me you didn't do this…”

“How could you think that I could do this to you? Have you lost your mind?” Paulette sputtered.

Everything was colliding in Silver's head. The room was as quiet as a wake, but it sounded more like a tornado in her ears.

Her skull was pounding, but she had to think. There must be someone else, she had to think.

Lane, he knew she used, didn't like it, but never thought less of her for it. His gaze was so tender and heartbreaking even now. The same way he looked when he saw Jax struggle to stand. Overcome with guilt.

_“It's not your fault, you can't protect everyone all the time.”_

Silver remembered what she was looking for. Lane had never come into her room, he was too shy to. He wasn't capable of this. He wasn't.

Jax, Jax was more than capable of this. A little cold, a little distant, he could have done it. Only, he was too much of a stranger. Where was the motive? And when would he have had the opportunity to snag her Calm-x. From Paulie? Not likely. She would have known.

Her mother, who nursed her back to health? Her father who taught her everything she knew? Impossible. Purely, unthinkably, impossible.

Who had the Calm-X the night of the raider attack? Who fell asleep in the annex first? All that time alone with her pack.

Silver could hear them again, the digging ferals, the wall crumbling around her. She could taste the grit and blood in her mouth, like she was there again.

_“No. Focus. Remember.”_

The ice inside her was pushing against her eyes. Squeezing shut her throat. It hurt so much. But she had to remember.

Then she did. Paulette, dropping off a beaded broach Franie had found. She spent a long time in the cabinet. The cabinet where the cigars were kept.

Silver opened her eyes and stared at her sister. She felt like a ghost, a wrathful specter haunting the room.

“It all...it all fits. You know where I hide my cigars. I-I know you know.”

Paulette froze. Her face went slack. Suddenly she had nothing to say.

“You always give me my hybrid jet when it ships in too...and you’re the only person who had the consistent opportunity to lift the Calm-X off me.”

“That’s not-”

“You...Paulette, you did this?”

“I didn't!”

“Silverfish, you can't blame your sister for this,” their father interjected.

“Are you blaming Dad? Mum? Lane? Your own husband?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then who Paulie? Who has been making me sick all this time?”

“Sil, it's not...I didn't…”

The ice that had kept Silver frozen in place came crashing down, melted away by fury.  
She rushed Paulette and had a hold of her before anyone else could think to stop her.

“Is that why you kept asking me if I was using? How much I was using?” she yelled, shaking her.

“Is that why you got so angry in the library when you saw the jet? Because you poisoned it?” she shrieked, throwing Paulette to the floor.

Paulette landed on her rump with tears welling in her eyes.

“Sil, please, listen to me! I did it okay? I did it. But I did it because I love you...I did it to keep you safe…”

Silver stared at her sister as if she were a stranger. Though she had seen it all her life, suddenly Paulette’s face lacked all it's familiarity. Lane moved forward and took Silver by the elbow, stopping her from getting any closer to her downed sibling.

“To keep me safe? You poisoned me to keep me safe? You almost killed me!”

“I know! I know…” Paulette sobbed.

There was a long silence then.

“I just wanted you to stop...I thought ...I thought if you got sick using them you’d stop. And you did start getting sick, but not enough, so I just kept it up. Then...then you said you stopped, and I believed you. I wanted to believe you.”

“You think that’s an excuse for what you did to me? You didn’t even have the guts to own up to it after we started to put it together. Would you have said anything if they locked up Lane for what you did? If they killed John?”

Paulette shook her head. “I thought...I thought that maybe this would be the scare you needed. I thought this time you’d really stop. You’d stop and I could stop blaming myself…”

“Blaming yourself for what?” Silver asked jerking free of Lane’s grip. “What did you do that could be worse than this?”

“I left you behind!” Paulette yelled, her head sinking into her palms. “I left you there and ran home. And look what happened to you.”

“Left me? Where did you-you mean...do you mean back in Capital? Jesus Christ Paulie! You were a kid!”

Paulette pulled herself to her feet. “But look what happened to you. Look at your life...your face...Did you forget what happened the second week we were here?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It was your first night in your own place. Sunday dinner with mom and dad. You showed up in a rotten mood. When I told you to straighten up you flipped out. Started yelling. No one could calm you down. You yelled at dad and stormed out. Made mom cry. I’d never seen you like that. Not even during one of your fits. I went to talk to you and you’d trashed the place. Do you remember?”

Silver Sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I remember that.”

You tossed the furniture everywhere. Broke that little table, and the lamp, who knows what else. You were crying, practically pulling your hair out. Do you remember what you said to me?”

Silver shrugged. “Probably said a lot of crazy things. Why does it-”

“You said it was my fault. You said I was the reason you were broken. And I realized you were right. I left you behind. I got you your first chems. They were making you worse. I was to blame. Don’t you see? After that, I had to try and fix you. I had to Sil.”

Silver unclenched her fist. Her anger had gone from hot to cold, but had not left her.

“Paulette, I don’t remember saying that. But I know why I said it. I wasn’t high that night Paulette, or tripping, or crashing. I was going through sudden withdrawal symptoms. That can happen when you cut something off all at once like that, even with medicine you need.”

“Do you get it now? You wanted me off the chems and I was trying so hard to make you proud. To keep our family happy. I was afraid the doctor would tell me not to stop, so I never asked him about the dangers of quitting cold turkey. I just suffered through it in silence. I thought after the drugs were out of my system I would start to feel better, but the truth is, I only got worse. After that fit, I went to see Dr. Forsyth. He put me back on the chems. They weren't making me worse Paulette. You didn’t fix anything. You only managed to break this family. All because you couldn’t trust me. Congratulations.”

No one knew what to do. No one could move. No one could speak. The room was engulfed in the silent tears of two sisters, whose love had destroyed everything between them.  
Silver’s heart was so utterly shattered, she dared not take a step. If she did she felt she would step on the broken pieces as if they were shards of glass surrounding her.

“And I thought my family was dysfunctional,” Hancock muttered as he stepped up beside her, right through the imagined glass. He was so entirely undaunted by everything.

In the ground hadn't she said? Was he still expecting her to follow through? No. He was just reminding her he was there. It was a small comfort but she would take it.

She addressed Paulette again. “This family, you...you were all I had. I gave you everything, and you just...you just took everything away from me…”

“Silver, please…”

“Don't speak to me. Don't you dare speak to me you backstabbing bitch,” Silver seethed.

“Silver!” her mother scolded her, too shocked to say anything else.

“Commander,” Lane said, his voice shaking, “please escort Paulette to lock up. Be sure to inform the overseer of her crime…”

Silver's mother was panicking. “Lane! How could you-I can't-”

“Absolutely,” Morrison obliged. “Men, help her along.”

The two guards took the stunned Paulette by her arms and began to march her away.”

“Miss Donahue…” Doctor Forsythe urged, “Would you like me to dismiss everyone?”

Silverfish turned to Jax, still sitting, stunned. Had he known? Did it matter? She'd never seen him look so lost and helpless.

“No, wait, commander Morrison...don't take her in...her daughter will be wondering where she is…”

Morrison momentarily appeared remorseful over the situation. “I'm sorry Silverfish, she admitted her guilt in front of everyone here. We can't just cut her loose.”

“I don't expect you to. Just keep her in her quarters, don't let her leave. And...feel free to tell the overseer I don't…”

Silver's voice broke and caught in her throat. She nearly gagged on the air she sucked in to hide it.

“Tell the overseer I'm not pushing for an execution, or banishment. I'm asking for mercy on her behalf. Probation or community service or something...like I said, she has a kid…”

Morrison frowned but nodded his head. “I'll make her aware of your request.”

Mrs. Donahue burst into tears and her husband pet her head to calm her. His jaw was set in anger but his eyes were sad.

This was the moment. If her parents ever loved her less because she wasn't theirs, this was the moment it would show.

However, Silver's mother held her arms out and embraced her the same way she always had.

“I'm sorry,” Silver found herself moaning. “I'm so sorry mum.”

Her father hushed her and wrapped both women in his arms.

For a brief moment there was only the pain, the crying, but then the anger resurfaced.

“Papa...I need something from you.”

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I want you to name Lane sole owner of the caravan.”

“What?”

Lane was just as surprised. “Me?”  
“I'm signing over my share to him and I think you should do the same. He's been a better son to you than either of us a daughter. Paulette doesn't deserve it…”

Mrs. Donahue looked to her husband then back to her daughter. “But sweetie, what will she do for work?”

Silver tried not to snap. “There are other caravans out there. That's her problem now. I don't even care if Lane keeps her on, I just don't want her to have it…”

Silver’s father studied her face. “You're signing over your share as well? Why?”

“Because I'm leaving. I have to…”

“Silver, don't be silly, you're not-"

“No, mum, I have to. I can't-I can't stay here. I can't look at her every day...after what she's done...I have to get away. At least for a little while.”

“She's right,” Lane said. “She needs to get some distance from this mess. From this place. I'd go with her but...it looks like I'll have a caravan to run…”

“I'm sorry Lane, I know it's a lot to dump on you at once…”

“It's ok Sil. You've been taking care of me damn near my whole life. It's time I returned the favor.”

“W-where will you go? You've hardly had time to recover, you can't go out alone like this...you-you just can't!” Silver's mother cried.

Mr. Donahue held her shoulder. “Don't get hysterical Laura. If she says she has to go then we just have to accept that. I'll handle things with the caravan little girl. You just...you just stay safe out there on your own.”

“I'm not going alone papa,” Silver assured him.

“With who then?”

“I'll leave the vault with Mayor Hancock.”

Hancock coughed. “You'll what now?”

“Mayor...Mayor Hancock?” Silver's mother fretted. “Do you mean the ghoul you brought with you?”

“It's alright. He knows how to handle himself out there. I'll stick to him till I recover a bit more. If…if he'll let me that is…”

She turned her gaze to him, scarcely sure she had spoken the words herself.

Hancock stared at her a long time, then smiled. “Yeah, I'll take you, if we call my debt to you squared.”

“Fine by me,” Silver answered, shaking his hand. “We leave tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really about to get rolling as they hit the road. I hope that means I'll be able to pick up my pace lol!
> 
> Thanks so much to Ser Nerdette for being so encouraging and giving me such great feedback.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and feel free to post your thoughts or questions, I literally live for it haha!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey lovely readers, I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about making playlists on Spotify for my fics. Is that a thing people do? Would anyone care to listen to it anyways? Idk. Thoughts?

For a while no one left in the medical bay moved. No one spoke. No one knew what to say.

Lane placed a protective hand on Silver's shoulder. “Do you mean to tell me we've been traveling with the mayor of Goodneighbor all this time?”

“No, we've been traveling with some other ghoul. They just magically switched places tonight. Surprise.”

Lane thumped her in the arm playfully, knocking her off balance.

“Oh shit,” he said, catching her. “Sorry, I...I forgot.”

Silver brushed it off. “It’s fine.”

“So how long have you known he is Mayor Hancock?”

“Since the library.”

“Why did you keep it secret?”

Silver shrugged. “He didn’t tell us. He didn’t want us to know. What does it matter?”

“I don’t know that it does...so he told you?”

“She twisted my arm,” Hancock told him with a chuckle. “I don't know, I guess I just wanted to tell her. Sorry for pullin’ the wool over your eyes a bit there.”

Lane shrugged. “No harm done really. Just, surprising I guess. I thought...I thought you'd be taller.”

Silver almost smiled. “I said the same thing.”

“What is it with you wastelanders and height? Is everyone just seven feet tall where you're from? Sorry I'm not the super mutant you pictured.” Hancock grumbled a few more words under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

Lane actually did crack a smile. “Alright alright. Take it easy big guy.”

“Lane dear, I don't understand, who is this man? Is he really a mayor?” Mrs. Donahue tittered, twisting a loose thread between her fingers.

Hancock attempted to stifle a snicker and Lane shook his head trying to do the same. 

“Yes Mrs. Donahue, he really is a mayor. He runs Goodneighbor, in South Boston, you remember?”

Silver's mother gasped. “South Boston? Oh you don't mean that dirty little drifter town do you? That place was crawling with every manner of unsavory, low life, deplorable-Oh! I don't mean to be rude Mr. Mayor, I just…Silver are you sure you should go with him?”

Silver pet her mother's hand. “Don't worry mum. I'll be alright. You know I will.”

“But Silver, sweetie, he-he's a, well, a ghoul. I don't see how…”

“I said it's ok.”

Her mother frowned, smiled, then pulled her into a teary hug. “You'll be careful, and you'll come home safe?”

Silver briefly hugged her back. “Of course I will.”

“I love you so much, my little silver star.”

“Mum, don't call me that,” she giggled. 

Mr. Donahue looked Hancock over. He didn't glare, didn't threaten, didn't even look suspicious of him. Instead there was something vaguely understanding in his eyes. 

Hancock nodded. Now there was a man who clearly believed in his daughter.

He kissed her forehead and said his own simple goodbyes before guiding his wife to Jax’s side to share in his grief.

Silver cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Lane, my door code is 799851. You'll need it to get in.”

“What? Why?”

“You're moving in.”

“Huh?” Lane grunted in response.

“If you don't take it McNamara will just give it to someone else.”

“I'm not taking your place, are you kidding me? What happens when you come back?”

Silver averted her gaze and didn't say a word.

Lane slowly put the pieces together and his mouth fell open. “Silver, I-you...you're not...you're not coming back, are you?”

“I honestly don't know Lane. I just don't feel like I have a place here anymore.” Silver winced at her own words, as if they were as painful to say as they were for Lane to hear. 

“But, Sil, that's crazy you-you always come back...when you ran away in Capital, you came back. When we thought you got eaten by ghouls, you came back. You always come back.”

“Man was my father right, your pa was way too soft on you as a kid,” Silver chastised him.

“‘scuse me miss?” he stuttered, flushed red with anger and embarrassment.

“Just because I may not come back doesn't mean I'll never see you again. You're so dramatic…”

Lane scratched the back of his head and let out a long breath. “You'll come visit though?”

“Of course I will. It's not like I never want to see you again, dummy.”

“Well...Where are you going to go?”

Silver shrugged. “Donno...away. Somewhere away from here.”

“You're gonna get yourself killed out there you know? Without me watching your back,” Lane told her with a slight grin.

“You're the one that has to wear a big metal suit just to keep up,” Silver mumbled mockingly. 

“You take that back,” Lane barked.

Silver grinned. “Yeah? Make me,” she ordered with a cough. Her cough turned into a wet hacking and Rachael had to sit her down and get her a drink of water. 

Lane clenched and unclenched his fist a few times. 

Silver touched his arm. “Stop it. This isn't your fault. You didn't do this to me.”

“I know but-”

“It's been a long day. I'm ready to go…can you tell mum and dad for me? I can't say goodbye again.”

“Are you sure?”

Silver stood, gave him a weak one armed hug, and nodded before stepping out of the room. 

“Stay sharp out there, he called after her, too quiet for her to hear. 

Hancock shook hands with Lane, whose grip was a little too tight with worry, before following behind her.

Silver was stalking down the hallway at remarkable speed for someone who was recovering from being poisoned. He could see it in her posture, in the tense muscles of her back, she was furious again. 

“Hey, hey, wait.” Hancock called after her, barely matching her pace. “Wait damn it!”

“I don't want to wait. I want to leave as soon as possible. There's nothing left for me here…I can't believe it, sneaking out in the middle of the night, like I'm the one to blame…”

“You were really serious about it then? I mean, not the leaving part, the traveling together bit…”

“I'm not stupid. I know I'm too sick to get anywhere on my own. I need someone watching my back,” Silver replied, not at all waiting. 

“Right, but you want to go with me?”

Silver scoffed. “I don't want to...it's just like you said, I don't have anyone else…”

“Yeah, but…”

Silver stopped suddenly, causing Hancock to overtake her and turn around to face her. 

“I didn't even ask you...I…”

Silver rubbed her temples and shook her head. “I didn't even ask if you were ok with this. I'm sorry, that was selfish of me to put you on the spot like that. You don't...you don't have to take me, you don't owe me that. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course you wouldn't want to take me.”

Silver started walking again, muttering to herself.

Hancock was stunned momentarily and Silver was several steps ahead of him before he remembered to follow after her.  
“What? No, see, I'm not trying to weasel out of this or anything. I do actually owe you for the chems. I got no problem with taking you. I just thought...well, I'm aware I'm not exactly preferable company. Not for most people, but especially not for you. Wouldn't you rather ask your man Lane? I'm sure he would-"

“No. He can't,”

Hancock gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I've seen him in action out there, he does just fine. And he definitely cares about you, I'm sure he-"

“He can't. He wouldn't be able to let me go. If he came he would never leave. He wouldn't go back without me. He would try and make me come back with him and I couldn't take that. I need to be away...away from all of this.”

Hancock chewed his lip in thought. “Does he love you?”

“He thinks he does, I think…”

“Do you love him then?” he aske with a smirk.

“I think I could have, if I wanted to. He's a good man, I could do worse.”

“But...you didn't want to?”

“It's not that exactly. I just always wanted something else more I guess. I’ve told him not to wait around for me…”

She sighed. “Can we not talk about this?”

“Yeah, right. Sorry.” Hancock paused to let the air clear before speaking up again. “Why not one of Morrison's men? I'm sure he could spare one or two. He seems to like you well enough.”

“He does not like me. He thinks I'm one of his, you know? That if push came to shove I'd back him in a fight. He was protecting an asset back there, not a person. I'd be offended if it weren't for the fact that he's wrong. I'm McNamara’s girl, through and through. Let him believe what he wants.”

They turned into the generator room, making their way to the back hallway. “Besides, I have a feeling if Morrison did send a guy, he would ask for a volunteer. I bet I know who would take that job…”

“That scumbag from the other night who was trying to push you around.” Hancock caught himself in a glower and had to physically shake the expression off his face.

“Right.”

“Well fuck that. Looks like you're stuck with me,” Hancock assured her with a shrug.

“Aye…”

“Heh.”

“What?” Silver asked.

“You get it from your father, I can tell.”

“Get what?”

“You have a little touch of an Irish accent, your father too. Your’s slips in when you're tired just a bit, like just now. It's kinda cute actually.”

Hancock couldn't see it, but he was sure Silver's face was flushed.

“I've suddenly changed my mind. I'll take my chances alone.” The embarrassment was obvious in her voice.

Hancock grinned. Was it sick that making her squirm was so entertaining to him? “Cool it. You need me,” he admonished her with a soft laugh. 

Silver huffed and picked up her already ridiculous pace.

“We're not really leaving tonight are we?” 

“Why not?”

“Well first of all, I'm pretty sure you just used the last of your strength to put your sister on her ass.”

“I...that was…”

“You've got poor impulse control, so what? Mine's worse. Second, you've got too much to wrap up here. Let's eat, get some rest, head out mid morning.”

Silver stopped walking again, this time causing Hancock to knock against her shoulder.

“What now?” he asked after righting himself. 

“It's Sunday…”

“Uh...yeah, it's Sunday….You religious or somethin?”

“We eat dinner at our parents every Sunday. When we're home...even when I was too sick to eat I went…”

Hancock felt something tighten uncomfortably in his gut. “Yeah...it's Sunday.”

“I guess that's over now.” Silver's words were whispers, mumbled and sweet like a child's. 

Hancock almost laughed, because even when she had been bleeding and dying, she hadn't looked as vulnerable as she did now. 

“Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly, but we should probably eat…” 

“You asking me to dinner? Awfully forward of you. I don't mind that in a woman though.”

Silver's childish expression vanished as she glared at him. “You make my skin crawl like a rad roach.”

Hancock laughed and briefly removed his hat. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

“Idiot,” she hissed as she began to move again. 

Hancock shook his head but didn't say a word. She had so much fight in her. It was admirable, though perhaps a little scary. 

“Does the stove in your place even work anyways?”

“Sure,” she grunted. “At least it did. It boiled water before.”

“Right...better question, do you have any food at your place?”

“I...maybe? Probably not…”

“Right….” This time it was Hancock who stopped abruptly. “So what do you want from the cafe now that you're not poisoned?”

Silver laughed low and bitter. “I don't know...fucking surprise me…”

***  
The cafe had a lot of options and it took Hancock a while to decide on what to bring back. Eventually he asked for two pasta dinners and explained to Maria that they were meant to be eaten elsewhere. 

She gave him a scrupulous look, one that begged the question “you're still here?”, but packed the two meals up to go.

Pasta wasn't something one usually found out in the wild Commonwealth that often, so Hancock chose, as he always did, to indulge himself.

When Hancock returned, Silver was sitting cross legged on her bed, braiding her hair. She was watching her reflection in a cracked hand mirror as she twisted the braids up into a bun. 

She didn't like it in her way. 

“You should just grow your bangs out if they bother you that much,” he told her, setting the food down in the kitchen.

She ignored his advice. “What did you bring us?”

“Italian.”

Silver grunted as if intrigued and slid another bobby pin into her hair. 

“You gonna eat?”

Silver brushed her bangs from her eyes before acknowledging his presence. 

“Do you think I'll be sick again?”

“Do you feel sick?”

“I feel smothered, like something is tied over my face and I can't breath right…”

“You're probably just overwhelmed by all of this. Who wouldn't be?”

She nodded, her gaze never leaving the mirror. “I guess so. I've been sick for so long I don't remember what normal feels like.”

She reached out with trembling fingers and touched her reflection then drew back suddenly, as if the action had been painful. Her fingers traced the scar at the corner of her mouth. She frowned. 

“They aren't as bad as you think ya know,” Hancock offered, seating himself at the table. 

“What?” Silver asked, sounding startled.

“Your scars. They aren't as bad as you think they are. The light down here makes them look worse is all.”

Silver broke eye contact with her reflection and turned her gaze to him. “I don't need pity from a ghoul about scars of all things,” she hissed, tossing the mirror on to the bed and standing. 

Hancock held up a hand in defence. “Yeah, ok, you may have a point there. Pick your battles John, pick your battles…”

Silver stepped towards her trunk and flipped open the lid.

“You're gonna pack now? Dinner is gonna get cold.”

Silver stared into the trunk for a moment, as if trying to brace herself for some invisible blow. She then let go of the lid and let it fall with a heavy thud. 

“You're right. It's not as if I have much to pack up anyways. May as well try to eat...”

“That's the spirit. You're gonna need your strength.” 

Silver unpacked the meal and stared at it as if it might do her harm.

“Have you always had trouble eating like this?”

She shrugged. “Not always. I don't remember what it was like before the incident but mum says it started a while after.”

“Uh-huh...that’s a shame. If you don’t eat right you’ll get sick, lose your edge, ya know?”

Silver grunted and dipped her fork into the pasta, pointlessly pushing the noodles around.

“Should I light some candles?” Hancock asked her, arching his brow in a mischievous way. “Set the mood? Little silver star”

“I regret not shooting you, you know that right?”

“No you don’t.”

Silver snorted and began to twirl the pasta on her fork.  
After a few moments of silence Silver spoke up. 

“Where were you going? Before you decided to come here I mean. I doubt you left your town for the De Luca’s leftovers.”

“Bunker Hill. It’s not a bad place to get a feel for the world. Here the latest news, that kind of stuff. Not as good as Diamond city I guess, but, Bunker doesn’t have a ghoul ban now do they?”

“Bunker Hill...that’s not bad. It would be easy for me to hire on with another caravan there.”

“Is that your plan? Keep gunning for traders?”

“It’s what I’m good at. Why change it up now.”

“Because you can, if you want. You have the choice. The opportunity. You could do whatever you want.”

“Shack up with a farmer? Live off the land? An honest living right? Somehow I don’t think I’m suited for that life. Besides, I’d just end up having to run raiders off the property and I’d be back in the same boat as I am now.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

Silver smiled in a sly way that was meant more for her than for him. “You’re good at that you know.”

“What?”

“Getting people to tell you all their personal garbage without sharing anything about yourself.”

Hancock laughed. “What, you suddenly want to know about me?”

“Well, we will be traveling together…”

“Alright. What do you wanna know?”

Silver pondered the question. “Is it all true? About you and Goodneighbor and...everything?”

Hancock laughed and slapped the table. “Well it can’t all be true can it?”

“I guess it can’t,” she replied with a giggle.

So Hancock told her about slinking off to Goodneighbor in his youth. About the ghouls being kicked out of Diamond City. About Vic and taking the town. She ate while she listened, her bright eyes locked on his. She liked stories, he could tell. She would have never looked at him so long if she didn’t.

“The rest is history,” he concluded with a passive gesture of his hand. “Or I guess it would be if people bothered to write things down anymore. Maybe I should see to that someday.” 

“So you became mayor by killing the last mayor?”

“Had to be done. The price of freedom is always blood.”

Silver shrugged. “I wasn’t passing judgment. I just wanted to make sure I had my story straight.”

“It’s straight, if you believe me anyways.”

Silver shot him a look that told him she was apprehensive at best, but said nothing.

They finished their meal and Silver crawled onto her sofa while Hancock cleaned up. 

“Hey,” Silver called, pressing her palms to her forehead. “I meant to say earlier...Thanks for sticking with me. It was a bit easier to take with someone else there. So, with that, and the saving my life thing, I guess I owe you huh?”

Hancock smiled at her. “Nah, you don't owe me. Fearless heroics come free of charge. I do owe you however. A lot of people out there would kill to be in your position with the mayor of Goodneighbor.”

“You sure like to remind me who you are. Afraid I'll forget?”

“No, I'm afraid I will if I hit the Jet too hard.”

She laughed and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her.

“What, you going to sleep?” he asked her.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Right, of course. So I’ll just...see you in the morning?”

She shook her head. “There, in the corner, there is a bed. You can sleep there if you want.”

“You sure?”

“You’ll never find a place in communal. Besides, we’re partners now right?”

Hancock nodded and gave up a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess we are.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so if anyone actually cares enough about the trash I write I could use a proofreader/editor type person. If you'd like early access to my trash and have good eyes, let me know. If not that's cool. As always enjoy!

They left just before first light. Silverfish woke before Hancock. The muffled sounds of her hasty packing were enough to rouse him. He chose to lay still and watch.

She darted from spot to spot, stuffing survival gear in her pack or placing personal items in the trunk beside her bed. She paused once to look over her collection of baubles. Through the dissipating blear of sleep, Hancock could see her face was serene, almost wistful, then suddenly warped into a mask of rage.  She plucked out the single earring and glared at it before wrapping it in her clenched fist. Hancock thought she was going to throw it, but instead she placed it in her pocket, then laid the box in her trunk.

 

Hancock slid his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. This startled Silver but not enough to interrupt her. He rubbed his face, trying to physically remove the weight of sleep from himself. He got the feeling Silver wasn't in the mood for any morning conversation so he made himself scarce by readying himself in her bathroom.

 

The mattress he had slept on was firm, hardly used. The bed had been half buried under broken furniture. Why was it there? Was it just a matter of storage convenience? Or was it meant to belong to someone? And why was there so much broken junk in there anyways? What had happened?

 

Hancock washed up and dressed himself leisurely. He was in no hurry to get in Silver's way. Had she broken those things? She had a temper, he had experienced that first hand well enough. Maybe that chair had poisoned her once too.

 

There was a bang on the door, too loud to have been accidental, but not loud enough to be hostile. She was ready to go.

 

Hancock exited the bathroom and scanned the room for his demanding new partner. She was standing over the trash chute tossing in her thin cigars one by one. Her hair was done up in twin dutch braids. Hancock laughed to himself. She looked like a really pissed off version of the girl on the German beer bottles, minus the hair ribbons. But then he felt a twinge of pain in his jaw and decided that bringing it up now may not be best.

 

Feeling his eyes on her she spoke.

 

“No way of knowing which ones are poisoned. Thought about trying to sell them but...I'd rather they end here. So I know it's over and done with.”

 

“Sure, I get that,” he replied, sliding on his heavy winter coat. He thumbed a button for a moment before addressing her again.

 

“I've got contacts out there, I could see what they turn up on smooch...if it would help.”

 

Silver's face twitched as if torn on which emotion to show, but eventually something similar to gratitude took root.

 

“Thank you...I would...that would be appreciated.”

 

It happened again. All the sharp features of her face softened. Her eyes glimmered with excess moisture and her lips briefly ceased to frown. A delicate childlike innocence flooded her from some deep hidden place within. And then it was gone. Like she had found the leak and sealed it up.

 

Hancock simply nodded and gathered up his pack. He took his weapons off the wall where Silverfish had insisted he keep them. He wondered if she would ever trust anyone again after the shit storm she had just endured.

 

Silver looked around the room while drawing in a pained breath through her teeth. Hancock couldn’t tell if she was simply feeling emotional about leaving, or if she was still feeling the ill effects of the rad away. What few personal items she had around the room were now boxed up in the steamer trunk, which had been pushed away from the foot of the bed. She had scribbled out a quick note to Lane about certain quirks of the apartment, and advise about not touching her things, and set it on the coffee table, using the brahmin skull as a paper weight.

 

“You ready then?”

 

Silver nodded and shouldered her own pack and rifle. “Let's go.”

 

Hancock took a step then paused. “Hey, wait a minute...you’re not blue.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Your cloak I mean. You forgot it.”

 

Silver stiffened then turned on her heel. “I _didn’t_ forget it.”

 

Hancock snorted. “Alright, I get that your sister made it for you and that's a touchy subject right now, but trust me, you'll regret leaving it behind.”

 

Silver grimaced. “What, because I'm suddenly going to have some kind of sentimental breakdown and forgive her for what she did?”

 

Her voice was strained, the same huffy way it sounded right before she hit somebody.

 

“Well, that, or the fact that it's colder than hell out there…”

 

Silver clenched her fist tight enough that Hancock could hear the leather of her gloves squeak.

 

“Come on, take the stupid coat. I’m not giving you mine when you get cold out there.”

 

 Suddenly she stomped across the room and picked up the cloak. She threw it on over her coat hurriedly. On her way back she picked up the coat rack and threw it across the room. Maybe _that_ was what had happened to the other pieces of furniture.

 

Hancock held his tongue on the matter.

 

“Let’s just go,” she muttered, slinging her rifle onto her back.

 

The door whooshed closed behind them and Silver stalked off ahead of him. The vault was incredibly quiet for housing so many. Even the generator room seem muffled compared to before. It was almost as if everyone in the vault knew to stay out Silver’s path this morning.

 

The silence was weighing on him. That uneasy guilty feeling was burrowing its way into his gut again.

 

“So you’re really gonna leave without seeing her then?” he asked her.

 

“Who?” Silver asked in turn, knowing full well who he had meant.

 

“Your sister. You’re not going to say goodbye to her?”

 

“Actually...I am going to see her. One last time…”

 

“Well...that's mature of you. You really don’t think you’ll see her again?”

 

Silver sighed. “Not if the fates are kind.”

 

Hancock stared at her for a long time. He wanted to say something about the importance of family or make some analogy about the viscosity of blood over water, but he didn’t really have a leg to stand on there, so he kept it to himself.

 

As she walked, Silver pushed the hilt of her sword forward with her thumb, then let it slide back into its sheath with a little snap. Tromp tromp snap, tromp tromp snap.

 

_Does she always do that? How come I never noticed before?_

 

The cafeteria wasn’t open yet, but Silver dumped some caps on the counter and helped herself to a breakfast of cold meat and tar berries. Hancock wasn’t sure if this was really allowed but he wasn’t about to leave with an empty stomach either. He ate a sandwich of beef on a buttermilk biscuit. Silver packed her bag with rations that would keep as well as several rounds of bread and cans of water. Most of what she packed was jerky. She liked jerky.

 

After they were sufficiently stocked for their trip Silver headed towards the civilian quarters. Hancock followed reluctantly at a fair distance. She stopped in front of one of the doors where a single yawning  guard was posted. He jolted awake slightly when she approached then shrank away, allowing her access to the door. She stared at it, almost as if she could intimidate it into opening for her. She raised her hand hesitantly, then lowered it, before kicking the door instead. The sound of her heavy boot colliding with the solid metal was near deafening in the silence. The door shook in its frame, metal rattling against metal. The guard jumped back then stared slack jawed, as if she were crazy. Before he could move to stop her she kicked it again.

 

“Hey!” Hancock hissed. “People are tryin’ to sleep!”

 

There was a noise from within and after a few moments the door unlocked and slid open. Paulette stood on the other side. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and lack of sleep.

 

“Silver! I-Hey...mom and dad said you were leaving, you-why did you…”

 

Silver retrieved the earring from her pocket and held it up between her thumb and forefinger.

 

“I came to give this back.”

 

Paulette teared up and shook her head. “Silver, please, I-”

 

“You betrayed me Paulette. The one person who I trusted more than anyone. That isn’t something I can just forget. Something I can pretend didn’t happen.”

Silver threw the earring at her sister. It bounced off her shoulder and clattered to the floor.

 

“I _refuse_ to forgive you for this.”

 

Tears streaked down Paulette’s cheeks as Silver took several loud footsteps away from her. Then, she stopped. She turned about to look her sister in the eye.

 

“I hope you learn from this Paulette,” she told her before marching away towards the elevator.

 

“Well that was...pleasant,” Hancock muttered once the doors had closed.       

 

“I lost my temper. Sorry.”

 

Hancock laughed softly and tilted his head back against the wall. ““It's no skin off my nose miss Donahue.”

 

“There's no skin _on_ your nose. There's no _nose_ on your nose.”

 

“Touche. So, can I ask what the plan is?”

 

“For?”

 

“Us. This little adventure of ours. Where are we headed?”

 

Silver sighed and toyed with the end of one of her braids. “I don't know. I don't know…”

 

She had tears in her eyes of her own now. Hancock thought he had heard weeping at some point the night before, but he couldn't imagine Silverfish crying, so he had rolled over and gone back to sleep.

 

Now here she was, on the brink of tears, and is seemed so natural. It somehow suited her all too well.

 

“Hey,” Hancock said gently. “ Take a breath and get your head together. You don't have to have it all figured just yet. I just thought I'd ask. I'm not in a hurry so take your time.”

 

Her breath caught in her throat and Hancock could hear the little hitch in her chest. She didn't start counting, so Hancock assumed she would be ok this time.

 

After a long silence, Silver wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat and let out a slow even breath through pursed lips.

 

“We talked about going to Bunker Hill before right?”

 

“Mm-hum, that’s an option.”

 

“We should go there…Lots of caravans in and out so there’s bound to be plenty of supplies and I should be able to find work. I'll pick up a new caravan job no problem.”

 

Hancock pushed himself off of the wall with his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest. “Caravan work? Is that what you want?” he asked her.

 

“Like I told you before...It doesn’t matter if it’s what I want. It’s what I’m good at. If nothing else it’ll give me a chance to save up some caps to get back to Capital Wasteland.”

 

“Back to Capital? Interesting...”

 

Silver frowned at him. “What?”    

 

“Nothing it’s just, to hear you tell it, you damn near killed yourself trying to get out of there. And now you wanna go back?”

 

Silver shook her head. “There you go with that word again, like the universe cares what I want.  Right now, all I _want_ is to get the hell out of here.”

 

“Alright, alright...tell ya what, it’s early. I’ll cut you a deal this time.”

 

“How generous of you Mr. Mayor,” she said, her glare lessening.

 

The elevator lurched to a stop. Silver pulled out a length of cloth from her bag and wrapped it around her neck and shoulders before the doors opened. She struggled to adjust her cloak with the added garment so Hancock held the door.

 

Her eyes met his, a brief silent thank you, then she was blowing past him into the vault entryway.  The on duty guards were drinking their morning coffee and hardly looked up when Silver and Hancock passed by, into the frozen Commonwealth.

 

*

 

Six hours. Six hours had passed and she hadn’t said a word. She didn’t comment on the snow, she didn’t complain about the cold, her teeth didn’t even chatter.

 

 _She must be doing a lot better with that RadAway out of her system._  Hancock thought. _That’s good._

 

His gas mask had been keeping his own chatter to a muffled minimum, though he liked to pretend it was really his great humility for the girl’s situation. But six hours? That was asking a lot wasn’t it? Thinking back, she hadn’t talked much when they were traveling to the vault either. Most of what she had said had been directed directly to her sister or announced to the group as a whole. Was she really going to trek all the way to Bunker Hill without saying a word to him? That seemed more than a little rude.

 

The sun was high in the sky, but that wasn’t saying much since the sky was entirely clouded over. The dim light, falling snow, and Silver’s lack of basic human civility made for a cold morning. Not to mention the wind was picking up and visibility was drifting into low territory. He quickened his pace a bit until he was in stride with her.

 

“Hey uh, I know we’re making good time here and all but I think we may need to stop for a bit. Not all of us have as much skin keeping our toes from falling off,” Hancock shouted loud enough for her to hear him through the mask.

 

Her makeshift scarf was wrapped over her face right up to her eyes so she didn’t respond, but her gaze seemed to be one of acknowledgement. She jerked her head in a “follow me” sort of way, and they veered off whatever path they had been following.

 

The trees were more dense here so the snow and wind lightened. They had been following the river east for a while. Hancock could feel the drop in temperature and excess moisture through his gloves. Smell the faint brine all the water carried now. Cambridge was just across the water somewhere. Supposedly the home base of the institute. Hancock had nothing against synths, but if the rumors about the Institute were true, he didn’t care for them much. Silver was quite far ahead of him now. Did it snow in Capital? Was she used to this weather? Was that why it didn’t seem to slow her down?

 

Then she stopped and waved him over. He rushed over and readied his weapon.

 

“What’s up? Ya got somethin'?”

 

She pointed her rifle into the trees. Through the sparse branches he could see the peak of a roof. Hopefully that meant shelter.

 

“Alright, now if we can light a fire without burning the place down we’ll be in business. Let’s go.”

 

The old house was in decent shape apart from a section where the roof sagged and the porch stairs that had collapsed in on themselves. Silver dead stopped about ten feet back but Hancock kept moving.

 

“Doesn’t look like anyone is home. C’mon, let’s take a look,” he called back to her.

 

She didn’t move.

 

“Hey, you hear me? Let’s get in there...I’m cold…”

 

She shook her head and lowered her scarf. “I-I can’t.”

 

Hancock cocked his head. “What? Why not?”

 

“It’s...It’s warm in there, dry…

 

“Uh, yeah? That’s the point isn’t it?”

 

“There’s...There could be...I just can’t go in there ok?” she shouted taking a step back.

 

“What are you-” Hancock started to argue then it hit him.

 

_Ferals._

 

“I...I’ll go in and scope it out first. They won’t attack me. You just...stay out here and keep an eye out.”

 

Hancock vaulted over the demolished stairs and sauntered into the house. The place was dark, but without the wind blowing it was already a good bit warmer.

 

“Right then…” He cautiously thumped the wall with his boot a few times. “Anyone home?”

 

A small rad roach scuttled across the floor and wriggled its way between the floorboards. Beyond that, the house remained quiet. Still, just to be sure, he moved from room to room checking under furniture and debris for any signs of feral ghouls.

After he was satisfied with his home inspection he returned to the front porch.

 

“It’s all clear. You can come in. No ghouls, well, no ugly ones anyways.”

 

She remained standing unsteady and uneasy in the yard.

 

“Come on, you’re gonna freeze out there.”

 

He bent over the fallen stairs and held out his hand. He knew she didn’t need his help, but she would either take his hand, or she would jump over the stairs to prove she didn’t need his help. Either way she would move.

 

To his surprise she lowered her rifle and took his hand. He hauled her up and over the gap with alarming ease. She shouldn’t have been so light. It wasn’t like he was one of those muscle bound Brotherhood of Steel goliaths. That feeling in his stomach again. Had to get that thought out of his head.

 

“What’s wrong with you? Forget what I look like under this mask?”

 

Silver jerked her hand away. “No. Let’s get inside.”

 

Hancock snickered. “Yes ma’am.”        

 

Once inside they closed up the door and set about building a small fire. Silver rooted through trash to find kindling while Hancock did his best to rig together a safe fire pit. Once they got it burning and saw that the roof was damaged enough to keep the smoke from filling up the house, they sat down to get warm.

 

Silver removed her gloves to warm her hands and Hancock did the same.

 

She opened a can of water and drank half of it then passed it to him. He took it somewhat timorously and drank it down. He was finally starting to get the feeling back in his fingertips. He bent them a few times just to be sure they still worked. A bit creaky, but functional.

 

The house creaked too, each time the wind shifted it would groan in distress, like it wanted to find a way to get out of the cold too. There was a series of soft thumping noises that sounded off from above, just another effect of the wind, but Silver jumped each time it happened. Hancock decided in might be best if he talked over it.

 

“So you really want to go back to Capital Wasteland huh?”

 

Silver groaned. “Oh not this again!”

 

“Uh-uh, you can't shake me that easy. Tell me, why go back?”

 

She glared at him. “Didn't you just say I didn't have to have it all figured out right now? What do you want from me?”

 

There was a pause. When she realized Hancock wasn’t going to let it go, she continued. “I guess...I guess Capital was home. Capital is where Lane’s parents are buried. It’s where I learned to shoot, where Paulie and I...where we...Well, it was home once. This place never was.”

 

Hancock bit the inside of his lip, a physical attempt to keep his mouth shut. She was clearly in a lot of pain, she didn’t need a mouthy know it all ghoul telling her how to live, but, the words always seem to find a way out.

 

“You can hardly say her name. You really think you wanna go back to a place that reminds you of your family, when it was still a family? That’ll get you nothin’ but heartache. You know that right?”

 

She raised one of her sharp nails and thrust her finger in his direction.

 

“Just what would you know about it?” she shouted. “Your family kicked you out because you're a chem addict right? They got rid of you to protect themselves. How can you possibly compare what happened to me to _that_?”

 

“That’s not why-” Hancock gritted his teeth and started again. “Excuse me but your sister thought _you_ were a chem addict. What exactly is the difference there?”

 

“The difference is that I never brought hardship on my family like you. When I could make myself useful I left, I took care of them. I did everything I could to be good to them...and Paulie still stuck me in the back. My own sister…” Her voice shook and she had to swallow hard before speaking again. “What did you do to your family? You were like a virus draining them dry. Then you ran away? Abandoned them?”

 

“Hey now, you listen here. I can appreciate that you’re going through a tough time right now, but just where do you think you get off talkin’ about my family? You don’t know a damn thing about my past. You have no place going on about things you know nothing about.” Hancock was more than a bit hot under the collar. He realized he was using his “for the people voice” and it was booming in the small snow laden house.

 

Then Silver’s face warped into a hostile expression. Her lips curled up into something that looked like a smile, but wasn’t. Something much more primal. Hancock was visibly taken aback by it.

 

“Oh _please_ ,” she snarled. “Anyone who takes one look at you knows everything about you. You’re just a blood sucking lowlife, scraping by on chems and violence and the kindness of unknowing strangers. You blew into the the last town in rock bottom and made yourself king. You might be able to fool the bottom feeders that live there, and you might even be able to fool yourself if you try real hard, but you don’t fool me _Mr. Mayor_.”

 

Hancock shot to his feet. His fist was clenched but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to use it.

 

“You know what? Maybe I was a virus hurting my family, and I can accept my part in what happened between me and them But I gotta wonder, did it ever occur to you that you were doing the same thing? All this time you were poisoning them with all this hostility. Did you ever stop to think that your sister was right? That you are toxic? One of your own tried to kill you and I’m beginning to think you deserved it.”

 

As soon as the words had left his mouth he realized they shouldn’t have. Sure, she was being a bitch, but he didn’t have to lower himself to her level to make a point. It sure as hell wasn’t going to diffuse the situation any.

 

Silver flinched away at his words yet somehow kept her eyes or mouth from betraying any real emotion. Just a subtle twitch of the cheek. Then she was on her feet too, and Hancock was sure he was about to be on the floor fighting with a 115 pound girl a few inches from a shifty indoor fire. He barely had 35 pounds on her. That wasn’t a situation either of them needed to be in.

 

But surprisingly it didn’t come to blows. She simply took up her gun and made for the door.

 

“Wait, where are you going?”

 

She didn’t answer she simply stomped out into the snow. No pack, no gloves, where was she going? Hancock followed after her.

 

“Hey, come back. You can’t just leave! Where are you going?”

 

Silver whipped around to face, her gun nearly held to level. “I have to go put bullets in something, so unless you want it to be you, I suggest you get the hell away from me ghoul!”  

 

“Fine. Go. Just don’t be surprised if I’m gone when you come back,” Hancock shouted after her.

 

She didn’t turn around, she didn’t look back, she just disappeared into the trees.

 

*

 

The house was louder with her gone. Mostly because he spent his time pacing across the rooms in indignation. He kept telling himself he ought to just consider the whole thing a wash and leave but every time he moved for the door he ended up turning around again to make another lap around the room.

 

He kept racking his brain with half formed questions.

 

_What in hell’s name made her think she could just-_

 

_And who did she think she was, talking to him that way, like-_

 

_Where did she go? Why didn’t he just split on her?_

 

Granted, he shouldn’t have said what he said, but she-she had no right!

 

He opened up his pack and took a hit from the first canister of Jet he could find. This didn’t subdue him as much as he felt entitled to, so he shortly took a second, then a third. After this he no longer had the vitality to storm around the empty house so he sat in the corner feeling both vindicated and defeated.

 

_She shouldn’t be out there alone. She’s still recovering from all that shit in her body. She was still puking her guts out this morning. She didn’t even take her gloves. Her hands are going to freeze to her damn gun._

 

What did he care? He figured she deserved it after what she had said to him. She could insult him till the half life faded but leave his family out of it.

 

An hour passed and He still hadn't left. He had eaten some of the borrowed food from the vault cafe and occasionally stoked the fire to keep himself warm, but beyond that there was very little for him to do beyond wait to see if Silver had ghosted on him.

 

 _Sun’s gonna be setting soon...is she gonna be able to find her way back in the dark?_ He wondered.

 

If she was even coming back.

 

_How long has she been gone anyways?_

 

Jet made time feel funny like that.

 

_What if she’s already lost? Or hurt? Do I just leave her out there? Maybe I should just give her more time…_

 

The fire in his belly was slowly extinguished by the wash of the chems swirling around in his head. Though his mind refused to quiet, his body slowly gave away to unwanted sleep.

 

When he awoke the sky was gray with the fading light of evening.

 

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, standing up once again to look out the windows for her. He saw nothing. Her pack and gloves were just where she had left them. She hadn’t come and gone while he slept.

 

“Well hell, maybe she really isn’t coming back…”

 

He lit a few lanterns, trying to think of his next move, but nothing came to him. He began his pacing again, but this time it was slower and driven by concern and confusion rather than rage.

 

_What if she’s out there lying dead in the snow somewhere because I can’t shut my damn mouth?_

 

Raiders she could probably handle, but what if she had run into a yao guai? Or worse?

 

_What if she’s gone and done something stupid to herself?...all she took was her gun..._

 

With his frustration reaching a palpable peak, Hancock hauled off and kicked one of the interior walls. His boot went straight through the ancient plaster and became lodged in the wooden slats beneath it.

 

“Son of a bitch!” he bellowed upon realizing he was stuck. He grabbed a hold of his boot and attempted to pull himself free. As he did so he shook loose a hunk of plaster from the ceiling. It crashed over his head and struck his shoulder. A ripple of pain shot through him and he jumped backwards with such force he lost his balance, landing square on his ass, boot still in wall. This is exactly how Silver found him.

 

She was dusted with snow and her skin had a near blue hue to it, but she didn’t really look any worse for wear. They stared at each other for a few moments, both just blinking in dumbfounded surprise, then Silver started laughing. Her laugh was low and cool, perfectly suited to her husky voice. This was much more than one of her nervous giggles that occasionally slipped past her guard. This was a laugh from somewhere deep within her. A laugh that had been locked far away for a long time, creaky and uneven from disuse. She laughed and laughed, louder and louder until she too was a heap on the floor with tears streaming from her eyes. Hancock watched on in slight terror.

 

Slowly Silver got herself under control, and after wiping her eyes several times she manages to speak.

 

“Just what the hell were you doing in here? How did you manage this?”

 

Hancock felt his skin light in embarrassment, but surprisingly, not in anger.

 

“I was-you were gone so long, I was startin’ to wonder about you…”

 

She snickered. “So you decided to..what? Look in the walls?”

 

He nearly returned her smile. “Just...just help me out of here alright?”

 

She took hold of his foot and helped yank it free. Hancock got to his feet and brushed himself off.

 

“Where the hell were you?” he asked her. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

 

Silver’s expression became bitter. “I would have thought you’d prefer I _didn’t_ come back. I was sure you’d have been long gone by now.”

 

“Where were you all this time?”

 

“I told you I had to put bullets in something. I went out to shoot bottles but I got side tracked.”

 

“Side tracked? I thought you were...You could have been hurt or somethin’...”

 

Silver shrugged. “I came across some rad stag tracks. Tracked it down. Speaking of…”

 

She walked to her pack and pulled out a few tools before heading back towards the door.

 

Curious, Hancock followed her outside. Sure enough there laid a dead rad stag doe in the lawn.

 

“You drug that all the way here on your own?”

 

“Yeah. It’s not like you were around to help,” She said as she jumped from the porch.

 

“Well, I guess that’s what took you so long.”

 

Silver drug the rad stag closer and set about her task. Hancock also stepped off the porch to examine the kill.

 

“Nice shot.” he commented. She had hit it just once, right behind the ears.

 

“You use V.A.T.S. or somethin'?”

 

She didn’t answer but he thought he heard a laugh.  

 

“You’re in a much better mood I see.”

 

Silver stopped sharpening her knife and stood very still.

 

“You’re not going to say anything? We just going to pretend this thing didn’t happen? Cause I gotta tell you, I don’t think we can work together if this keeps happening.”

 

Silver’s shoulders sagged in a sigh before she turned to face him. She lowered her hood and bravely met his gaze.

 

“Listen. I only dug in so hard because I knew you were right. I knew I was out of line but I just couldn’t shut up. I just...don’t deal with being confronted with all my own little ugly truths very well. I’m aware it’s a problem and I swear I’ve been trying to fix it for a while now. I had no right to speak to you that way.”

Hancock crossed his arms over his chest, opened his mouth to speak, then uncrossed his arms. He hadn’t been expecting such a reasonable response.  


“Everyone has their reasons for things, right? Your reasons and your past are yours, plain and simple. I don’t mean to lash out the way I do, I just...see, the only thing I _know_ I know how to do is hurt stuff. If I feel threatened it’s like, all of a sudden I have tunnel vision. I feel like I have to strike first to protect myself. It’s always been that way. Looking the way I do, I had to get good at protecting myself in more ways than one from an early age. Like you said, messy childhood, messy adult right? I know it’s no excuse but...well, I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean what I said. I’m aware I owe you an apology but...It feels like I’ve been saying sorry a lot lately and I haven’t been doing anything to prevent these situations from repeating themselves. So...instead of saying sorry how about I say I was wrong, and that I’m working on it?”

 

“That...That actually sounds good to me...and for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean it either. Using your own situation against you like that was a pretty shit thing to do. It was cheap and dirty, which is usually my style but, well, you don’t deserve what’s happening to you okay?”

 

“So the rad stag…”

 

“I said I wanted to put bullets in something…”

 

“Yeah, No, that I get. I mean why bother dragging it all the way back here? We have plenty of food right?”

 

“Well yeah, and I love jerky and all, but it’ll keep a good while, but I was taught to never waste food. If you kill something, you eat it. Besides, you just can’t beat venison roasted over an open flame. That smokey gamey taste...and in this cold it’ll keep a few days if I pack it right.”

 

Hancock shrugged and took hold of the rad stag’s leg while drawing out his knife.

 

“No,” Silver said, putting an arm between Hancock and the rad stag. “I’ve got it. Just...just let me do it.”

 

“Come on, you killed it, let me clean it. You should go inside and warm up.”

 

Silver didn’t move. “Please, just let me do it. Just-just go somewhere else.”

 

Hancock looked her over. “Alright. Since I know you won’t listen to me, ok. You’ll need a bigger fire to cook that thing so I’ll just get started on that.”

 

Silver drug the radstag away from the house and set about skinning and cleaning it. Hancock respected her desire for space and watched her work from a distance as he gathered wood and kindling.

 

There was a release of steam when she cut into the carcass. Still warm inside. She hadn’t drug it as far as he thought, but he hadn’t heard the killing shot either. Maybe she had herded it back towards the house before killing it. She was clever. He’d give her that. And a damn good shot.

       

She worked without gloves, dropping handful after handful of unwanted parts and viscera into the snow. It was the sort of thing that actually doing wasn’t so bad, but watching somehow made it much worse. She worked quickly and smoothly, clearly she had done this a few times. No surprise blood and guts didn’t bother her. She had taken her cape off and without it she blended into the winter landscape almost seamlessly. Her face and hair became the snow, her dark lips and eyes, part of the striped winter trees. She was somehow edge-less, adrift, except for the dazzling crimson coating her hands.

 

When the cutting and cleaning was done, and Hancock had the fire going, Silver started rigging up a way to roast the meat. Before long fat was steadily dripping into the fire. There weren’t many out and out hunters in the Commonwealth, too many nasty things you could run into in the woods. Most food came from farms and scavers. Out here you either grew or stole what you needed. Hancock wondered if hunting was more common in Capital Wasteland, or if this skill was simply one required of a Donahue.

  

Silver worked tirelessly. Turning the meat, separating flesh from bone, salting, packing. To call it domestic would have been insulting. No, the task made her look downright savage. It was fascinating. Hancock let her work in peace. She seemed to enjoy getting lost in the work, and Hancock enjoyed watching her well enough. Besides bothering her while she had a knife in her hand probably wasn’t a good idea.

 

When the meat was situated Silver sent Hancock inside. She claimed it was because she wanted to get rid of the bones and other scraps to keep animals from bothering them, but Hancock doubted that was the sole reason. She couldn’t bring herself to go in the building alone, he had to go first.  

 

Hancock obliged her without any back talk and portioned out their meals, which was really just the meat and a bit of bread. The fire had burned low but the embers were still red and it didn’t take much to get it going again.

Silver eventually crept in, just as jittery as she had been the time before, and sat on the floor by her pack..

 

“It’s ok. The place is still clear. I promise,” Hancock reassured her, handing her her plate.  

 

“Yeah...Yeah you’re right.”

 

After an uncomfortable moment Hancock spoke again.

 

“You know...you don’t gotta be embarrassed about asking me for help with this thing. With the ferals I mean. Next time you’re scared of goin’ some where just say so. It’s not like I’m in any danger from them ya know?”

 

“That’s none of your concern. I’ll find a way to handle it on my own,” Silver answered curtly, biting into her meal.  

 

“Actually, it is. I’m out here with the understanding that I’m working off my debt to you by escorting you to Bunker Hill. I’m supposed to be watching out for you, and on a lesser note, you have to do the same for me. It’s important we’re on the same page you know? So stop being such a pain in the ass and let me look out for you alright?”

 

She glared at him, her cheeks turning red. “It’s not...It’s not that easy. What if it’s something besides ferals? Raiders or super mutants. You could get yourself killed because of me.”

 

Hancock shrugged. “Well, if it’s super mutants, I’m sure we’ll smell them first, so that’s not really a concern. And...if it’s raiders...well, you know I’m pretty good at leading them to you so, I’d say we don’t really have much to worry about.”

 

She gave a single laugh at this. Short, but not humorless. “Right. I guess we’ll be ok then.”

 

“Just do what worked when you were with your caravan. I’ll pick it up, no worries. As long as we’re out here we’re a team. Girl, ghoul, doesn’t matter. We’re a team.”

 

“That’s...That works for me. Thanks,” she whispered, looking down into the fire.

 

“You’re backing down that easy huh? Well that’s unexpected.”

 

“You just said you wanted me to, I’m trying to compromise with you!” she yelled. “What do you want from me?”    

 

Hancock just smiled at her. There was a lull, the sounds of the fire snapping and the wind battering the house briefly overtook the room.

 

“How is your shoulder by the way?” Silver suddenly asked him, her voice soft and tucked away inside herself.

 

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah it’s good. You’re not half bad with a needle I guess.”

 

“Did you clean it this morning like I told you?”

 

Hancock rubbed the back of his neck.“Uh…”

 

“If you get an infection I don’t want to hear it!”

 

“Relax, I’m just kidding. I cleaned it. Stung worse than a sting wing, but yeah, it’s all good.”

 

“Good.” Fresh color to her cheeks. “I mean...good that you’re taking care of yourself. Like you said, we’re out here together...I don’t need to be the one who offs the mayor of Goodneighbor.”

 

“Heh heh, right. That’d be a fuckin mess. Sweet of you to ask though. So what about you then? How are you feeling? That crap still making its way out of your system?”  

 

“Yeah, it’s still there but it’s getting better. Not as dizzy or hazy as before. The pain is a lot more manageable.”

 

_Good. Maybe now she’ll start to eat normal._

 

“I assume you spoke with the doctor again, got a clean supply of Calm-X. Did he say if there would be any permanent side effects? You know, like, a melted face for instance?”

 

“No. Once it clears my system I should be good as new.”

 

“That’s good news.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Quiet again, but this time it was comfortable. Hancock let her enjoy it for a while. But just until their plates were clear.

  

"So hey, what's it like back where you come from?"

 

She shot him a skeptical gaze. "In Capital?"

 

"Yeah, what was it like?"

 

“Ghouls live forever right?” she asked him. “You could go anytime you want. I mean, I wouldn't, unless you've got a death wish, but...I guess that's your prerogative."

 

"Nah, not forever, long time, but not forever. And I don't think I have any desire to get that far from home. So tell me, what's it like?"

 

"Well...what do you want to know? It was dry...and dirty."

 

Hancock laughed. "You're really bad at this whole conversation thing, you know that right? Where did you grow up?"

 

She was quiet and Hancock wondered if he had offended her again, but then she spoke up.

 

“If you climbed the ruins near our home...up high, you could just see Rivet City. Paulie wasn’t born there, they moved around a lot you know? But when they found me, that’s where they were living. Just a little shack with a blue door.”

 

“Rivet City? That’s the one they built in a boat right? You go there?”

 

“Lots of times. Just about the only place you could get rad free food. Not that it mattered to me but...that’s how Papa got the caravan going so strong. Mr.Vanderhorst worked with some vendors in Rivet City selling food. He and Papa had been friends for a long time already, I told you how they lived just aways from us. Well he and Papa agreed to merge their assets. Go into business together. They got a good deal with the food vendors and started doing runs out of the city. Just Papa, Mr.Vanderhorst and a brahmin. Before long they hired on a gun so they could make better time, then another brahmin."

 

"So how did that work? You and your mum follow the caravan?"

 

She shook her head. "No, not all the time. I guess when Mum was pregnant with Paulie, and for a few years after, she stayed home with Mrs. Vanderhorst. Papa didn't worry much for Mum and Paulie. Mrs. Vanderhorst could put the fear of God in just about anyone or anything. She grew up in the worst part of the wastes and she was meaner than any raider out there. To this day I don't know how she ended up with Douglas Vanderhorst. He was as gentle as a kitten."

 

"So that's where Lane gets it from then?"

 

"Yeah. His good looks too. Mr. Vanderhorst was so handsome. That's just about all I remember about him. He was handsome, kind, and he was the best shot I've ever seen, even after he lost his eye. He could tell a good joke too."

 

"Sounds like you had a real crush on him. That explains why Lane wasn’t good enough for you. So when did you come along?"

 

She was quiet in thought for a while. "Paulie was six or seven I guess. Like I said, I don't remember much about any of this. Mostly just what Mum has told me over the years. Papa found me crying in a ditch when he was out for a walk with Mr. Vanderhorst, looking for parts to fix up the water pump or something. They almost didn't see me. I guess I was hiding under some discarded plywood. Papa was afraid I was...that I might have been a feral, so he kicked over the wood and he found me instead. He took me home and I came to be part of the family."

 

"They didn't wonder about the way you look? Or where you came from?"

 

"Sure they did, but what were they going to do about it? It's not like I had any answers for them. They asked around for awhile but they figured if someone was missing me, I couldn’t have been that hard to find. They didn't want to leave me on my own so they let it go."

 

"Sure," he acknowledged, encouraging her to continue.

 

"I don't know how long we stayed there. A year, or two. Then Mrs. Vanderhorst died. She fell off the roof doing repairs. She fell just right I guess. Broke her neck.Shouldn’t have killed her, she should have gone out fighting. That’s how she would have wanted it. Mum thought she could handle taking care of us on her own but…”

 

Silver’s breath caught in her throat. “Shortly after that I had my run in with the ghouls and Papa said no more. Mum packed us all up and we followed the caravan from then on. We grew up on the road. Papa and Mr. Vanderhorst taught us to shoot, pack the brahmin, find landmines, everything we needed to know to survive. And I pretty much told you the rest.”

 

“That’s hardly the rest, but we’ll come back to that.”  

 

She was tired. He could see the way the day weighed on her.

 

“Don’t reckon you have any interest in heading out again what with dark not far off. Just wanna hold down here tonight?”

 

She eyed the house warily. She had nothing but distrust for the four walls around them and it showed in her gaze. The wind picked up and the house moaned. Silver shivered and pulled herself inside her cloak, but not from the cold.

 

“We can move on if you want. If you’ve got a bad feeling about this place listen to yer gut.”

 

She shook her head. “No. We’re more likely to get ambushed traveling at night. And I doubt I’d feel any different about the next place we found anyways. It just feels weird being away from everyone...everything familiar, all at once. Overwhelming you know? I always get nervous on my first night out anyways…”

 

“So here is fine?” he asked her.

 

“Yeah. Here will do.”

 

“Alright. I’m gonna go out and have a smoke,” he announced getting to his feet and gathering up the dishes they had used. “You bed down wherever you like I ‘spose.”

 

Hancock took his time. He wanted to give the girl some semblance of privacy when he could. He smoked one cigarette on the sagging porch then trekked down to the river to wash the dishes. He smoked a second one on the river bank, and half of one on the walk back. When he finally went back in the house Silver was laying on her bed roll, blanketed and bundled and still. Hancock fed the fire one last time and made himself ready for sleep as well.

 

No sooner than he had extinguished the lanterns and laid himself down for the night, did he hear an unusual strained sound. Hancock sat up and listened for a moment. He was ready to spring into action, but upon this investigation he found he recognized the sound. It was muffled by fabric, but undeniably it was the sound of crying. Pitiful hoarse crying. It was clearly Silver weeping into her cloak.

 

Hancock sat frozen in the dim light. He blinked down at the backs of his hands, but beyond that he didn’t dare move. He was supposed to pretend he didn’t hear her, that was the socially expected thing for him to do. That’s what he was _supposed_ to do. That’s what he had done the night before. It worked then. But that just didn’t sit right with him.

 

He scooted out of his bedding and inched his way towards her. This wasn’t something she could talk through. Not now, not with him, so he rested his hand on her shoulder and held it there, just occasionally patting her. The weeping turned into angry sobbing, then sniffling, and at last soft snoring.         

 

  

  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry for taking so long! I've been working two jobs so...yeah. Enjoy!

Her eyes were red and puffy in the mirror. Angry red. They stung each time she blinked. It had been so long since she had cried that much, she forgot the way it felt. Exhausting. As if she had tried to funnel a storm through a pinhole. It had swelled and swelled inside her and when it felt so large it would consume her, she found that she was suddenly empty, and had fallen asleep.

 

Despite the discomfort in her eyes, she felt remarkably better. Not sick, not restless. Sleep healed the body after all. She wouldn’t consider herself recovered, but she was definitely improved.   

 

She searched through her pack until she found her brush, then she brought it through her hair. She had kept it braided all night but the hair had already gone slack. What little wave it had held had slipped away with a single stroke. She thought it might be nice to have fluffy curly hair for a change, but her hair didn’t tangle or hold dirt and oil like Paulie’s soft curly hair, so it seemed like a fair trade. She braided it up on the sides and ponytailed it away. 

 

Mother had always wanted girls. She would have been happy with a boy, sure, but she had wanted a girl. Something about passing on her mother’s wisdom and love to a daughter of her own. Her mother gotten that with her and Paulie, but she and Silver had shared a special connection. Paulie had her father’s curls and hated sitting still to have her hair combed. Silver had never minded it, so her mother woke her before her sister every morning to style her hair. It became such a staple of their routine that Paulette took to doing it for her if she happened to wake before their mother did. They day Silver had cut it off she broke her mother’s heart. She tried to smile and be supportive about the change but she had tears in her eyes. Not long after that she had run away to find mercenary work. Her mother never did her hair again. Silver missed that now. She wondered if she would ever have that closeness with anyone again.

 

How long had he stayed there comforting her? Was he still there when she had fallen asleep? She couldn't quite remember. Had he even been there at all, or had she imagined it? When she had awoke that morning he wasn’t there. He clearly hadn’t left her there, but he wasn’t around either. 

 

Silver gathered up her bedroll and everything related, and to her surprise she was actually feeling hunger pangs. How long had it been since she had actually wanted to eat breakfast? She took out a section of the stored meat and sliced off a sliver to eat. It wasn’t bad cold. She dragged a kitchen chair to the window and sat down to eat. It had snowed most of the night. Silver spotted fresh footprints in the soft powder leading away from the house and around back. Chopping wood maybe? Probably not.  

 

The more she chewed the better it tasted. She had finished a fair piece off before realizing it. The fire had all but gone out at this point. Maybe that was his plan, let the cold wake her up. Was that why he had wandered off?

 

She stood and put away the remaining pieces of the equipment. She spent a few moments snooping around the house but most of what remained was kitchen wares caked with dust and hints of weather damage. She dropped a plate into the sink and it cracked apart. So brittle in the cold. She ended up finding a few forgotten bottle caps in the bottom of the refrigerator. Even the people who used to live here 200 years ago must have been slobs. Silver chuckled to herself. 

 

Silver kicked the ashes over the coals to smother them. They choked silently and slowly faded. Silver watched the embers spit out smoke for a long time. The longer she watched the further away everything else seemed to fade away. First the snowy landscape outside the window, then the house, the warped floorboards under her own feet, until there was nothing but her and the wafting smoke. It was like sinking in mud. The deeper she got the more frightened she felt, trapped, but the further she sank the more her will to look away dwindled. 

 

It was probably only a minute or two but it easily felt like hours. She would have watched for hours, until the embers went cold, if Hancock hadn’t entered the room. His gravelly voice shook her out of her trance. 

 

“Hey,” he called to her, a hint of questioning in his tone. 

 

“What?” Silver answered, her vision blurry as her eyes attempted to adjust to viewing the world around her again. 

 

“Didn’t you hear me call you?”

 

“No...no, I guess not.”

 

“What were you doing in here anyways? You feelin’ ok?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get going.”

 

“Up and eager huh? Somebody got a good night’s sleep I take it,” he joked. 

 

_ He’s always so calm, so relaxed, even off the chems. How doe he do that? It’s irritating.  _

 

She smiled at him. “Yeah. I slept ok.”

 

“That’s good because we got a big day today. Gotta cross that river. And it’s fucking freezing. Except...it's  not I guess, cause if it were we could just walk across...”

 

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to that…”

 

Hancock rolled his shoulders while seemingly thinking it over. “We could head west along the river and cross later in the day when the sun is up. Might not be as bad.”

 

“So long as we don’t cross into Cambridge I’m fine with that.” Silver tried to hide the shudder that crept over her but she she couldn’t combat the cold and the fear at the same time.  

 

“Why?”

 

“The CIT. They say that’s where The Institute creeps hide out right?” 

 

Hancock squinted at her, his interest clearly piqued. “The Institute? What do you know about them?”

 

“Not much really, but if the Brotherhood of Steel wants to get rid of them badly enough to launch a campaign  _ here _ they can’t be good news right?”

“That’s right, the new kids in town. The Brotherhood of Steel...They have an outfit back in the wastes right?”

 

“Mm-hum…”

 

“What do you know about them?”

 

“They’re...militaristic, but they're a far cry from the Gunners. Entitled. More than a little arrogant. They aren’t all awful though. Sometimes they manage to do some good.”

 

“Sure, so long as you aren’t a ghoul or a synth,” Hancock grumbled.

 

_ Whoops… _

 

“Well, I mean-”

 

“They shoot ghouls like me on sight you know. I’m surprised you don’t join up with them honestly.”

 

“Hey now, that’s uncalled for!” Silver snapped. She nervously tugged on one of her braids. “I told you, I don’t have anything against ghouls like you...I don’t think anyone deserves that kind of hatred over something they can’t control. The way the pre-wars treated Asians. Chinese, Japanese, Korean, it didn’t matter to them, they let their fear drive them to blind hatred. And look where that got them. Being a ghoul or a synth, how is that any different?”

 

Hancock scratched his neck, nodding slightly. “Well then...hey, I guess you don’t belong with them after all.”

 

“I want nothing to do with them or the Institute. My vote is West.”

 

Hancock shrugged. “Alright then, West it is.”

 

The wind had died and the snow had stopped falling, and everything was blanketed with quiet. Silver kept her scarf wrapped around her face for warmth, but Hancock chose his hat over the gasmask. 

 

Silver took point as she was accustomed with the caravan, but then she remembered Hancock seemed to find it necessary to match her pace and so she gradually fell back until they were walking side by side.

 

"Getting tired?" Hancock asked, his brow raised, "Or did you just miss my company?"

 

Silver huffed out a laugh.. "You wish. You just can't keep up and I feel bad for those skinny legs of yours."

 

"Ouch," he muttered back, his smile never slipping. "So you never did tell me how you got your name. I mean, Silverfish, you don't hear that every day.”

 

Silver sighed. "Not this again..."

 

_ Why can't he just leave things be? _

 

"I told you, I came with the name."

 

"You didn't tell me shit."

 

Silver bit at her lip, thinking things over.

 

"It's...It's branded into my skin. Tattooed or something...It was there when Mum and Dad found me. Guess they thought it suited me and they kept it," she eventually admitted.

 

"And you don't remember where it came from? I mean, even a kid would remember something like that."

 

"Convenient, I know. But like I said, I don't remember anything from before the attack. I've always thought maybe it was best that way."

 

Hancock grunted. "Yeah, maybe you're better off in the end huh? If it's any consolation to you, I think it's a stupid name, but I'm glad your parents kept it, because Silver is actually sort of pretty. It suits you."

 

Silver almost tripped over her feet in the snow.

 

"I...Thanks..." she mumbled, tucking her face deeper into her scarf.

 

_ Did he actually mean that as a compliment? I think he did... _

 

_ He just gets weirder and weirder, I swear. _

 

"So what's the plan for the river then?" Hancock asked.

 

"Well, I can't be sure, but being so close to the city limits the water might be damned up nearby. Trash and leaves and stuff build up, and with no one around to clear them...might be a dry spot to cross."

 

"I'm gonna end up with wet socks, aren't I?"

 

"You'll live," Silver chided him.

 

"You know hypothermia is a thing, right?"

 

After a silent mile and a half, they found the dry patch in the river they had been looking for.

 

"Well what do ya know, the wastelander was right," Hancock mumbled.

 

Silver jumped down into the riverbed. The top layer of mud was hard, but it wasn't frozen hard enough to keep her from sinking into the wetter, softer muck beneath.

 

"It's not to bad actually. A little sucky, just make sure your laces are tied tight," she called up to him.

 

"Great..."

 

Hancock dropped down beside her and the two of them started their squelchy walk to the other side when there was a sudden rumble beneath their feet.

 

"Shit," Hancock groaned, readying his weapon.

 

"What is it?" Silver asked, jumping back.

 

"Mirelurks."

 

"Mire what?"

 

But before Hancock could explain, a domed, multi-limbed nightmare pulled itself free from the mud and reared back with a shrill scream.

 

"Oh, that thing huh?" Silver asked humorlessly, her jaw slightly slack in shock. "Okay then..."

 

The mirelurk bolted at them, its spiny legs much more suitable for moving through the sticky mud than their boots, and reared back to bludgeon Silver with its meaty claw.

 

_ Fuck no you don't. _

 

Silver ducked the claw and slamed her rifle butt into its slightly softer underbelly. A small crunching noise from the hard carapace and the mirelurk stepped back.

 

_ Shit that's tough... _

 

"Aim for its ugly little face!" Hancock yelled, discharging a shot into the creature's legs to send it off balance.

 

The mirelurk squealed and whirled about to face Hancock. Taking him by surprise, it connected a blow into the center of his chest. The claw sent him sailing across the riverbed. He landed flat on his back, all the air knocked from his chest, and unable to level his gun.

 

_ Stupid brave idiot ghoul! Why didn’t you move away when you had the chance? _

 

The mirelurk made to charge Hancock, and Silver did the only thing she could think of. She dropped her rifle and grabbed on to the top of the mirelurk's shell.

 

She clung on as it sped forwards and the creature's momentum pulled her up out of the mud. It didn't take kindly to her presence however, and it whirled and shook itself in an attempt to dislodge her. Luckily for her, the creature's cumbersome shell prevented it from being able to reach her with it's claws.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" Hancock yelled to her, trying to regain his footing in the mud.

 

"Saving your life, what's it look like I'm doing?" She yelled back.

 

The mirelurk reared back and bashed its shell into Silver’s face. She felt her grip loosen and the warmth of blood leaking onto her upper lip. The salt of it in the back of her throat. She managed to hang on. 

 

The creature began to shake more violently and Silver knew it was only a matter of time before her grip gave out. Letting go meant getting trampled or cut in half and she wasn't too keen on either of those ideas, so she decided she had do do something to immobilize the creature.

 

She waited for the creature to end a bout of violent turning, then she bit down on the cuff of her glove and pulled it off as quick as she could. She adjusted her grip on the rim of the shell and using all her strength she pulled herself up over the top and dug her claws into the creature's eyes.

 

The mirelurk screeched and jerked its upper body from side to side. Silver clawed and tore at its face as hard as she could but had to relinquish her grip when it brought down it's heavy arms onto its own face.

 

Silver tumbled down the creature's shell and landed on her knees behind it. It spun to crush her, and it easily would have, had she not succeeded in blinding it.

 

It slammed its sharp legs into the dirt beside her, then it backed up, rubbing its goo covered face in an attempt to clear it's vision.

 

Hancock was back on his feet and he had been waiting for his opportunity. He took shot after shot at the creature's softer underside. The mirelurk screamed out and attacked blindly but it couldn't manage to connect.

 

Silver found her rifle, and moved in for the kill.

 

It stood on trembling legs, thoroughly distracted by Hancock, when Silver crouched under it's raised claws and fired directly into it's maw.

 

The hulking shellfish reeled back, made a feeble attempt to scuttle away, then dropped dead, gurgling in the mud.

 

Silver and Hancock looked at one another, panting and covered in mud.

 

Silver plugged one of her nostrils and blew blood out of the other. 

 

“Broken?” Hancock asked her.

 

She shook her head and picked up her discarded glove.

 

"So that's a mirelurk huh? That wasn't so bad..." Silver puffed, wiping sweat from her brow and leaving behind a streak of mud in its place.

 

Hancock bellowed with laughter, having to place his hands on his knees to keep him from falling over.

 

"That was the craziest dumbest thing I've ever seen! You rode it like a bucking brahmin!"

 

"I had to do something, it was going to crush you...you're welcome by the way."

 

"That was amazing! I can't wait to tell the folks back home I saw a crazy wastelander hop on a mirelurk like that!"

 

Silver scowled at him. "Well it worked didn't it?"

 

Hancock straightened up, still smiling at her, and wiped the streak of mud off her face with his thumb. "Yeah, that was quick thinkin' kid. We both got lucky. Good work."

 

Silver froze, her grip on her weapon choked up, and her eyes locked open wide.

 

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to do that...to touch you, sorry."

 

Silver felt trembling breaking out in her limbs.

 

_ He touched you. The ghoul touched you.  _

 

_ But you didn't scream. You didn't hit him... _

 

Hancock backed up a step. "You okay?"

 

Silver sucked in a deep breath and she felt the trembling subside.

 

_ You're okay. Surprisingly, you're okay. _

 

Heat flooded back into her skin and her grip on her weapon eased.

 

She nodded and lowered her gun to her side. "I'm fine."           

 

"Sorry about that, I'll be more careful," Hancock reassured her.

 

_ I'm fine. I'm actually fine. Is he okay? _

 

"Your shoulder...make sure it didn't open up okay?"

 

Hancock coughed in an attempt to hide his surprise. "You ain't gonna yell at me?"

 

Silver felt a slight smile slide onto her face. "I will if you’ve ruined my stitches."

 

Hancock jerked his head towards the opposite bank and they started walking.

 

“We’re lucky it was just the one. They usually live in nests.”

 

Silver visibly recoiled. “Then we better keep moving, because I am  _ not _ doing that again.” 

 

Hancock climbed up the bank and helped haul Silver out after him.

 

With the sun finally starting to cut through the clouds, it was starting to warm up. Beyond the thin line of trees where they now stood, Silver could see the CIT building she had so adamantly been warned about. She sneered to herself, glad to have bypassed the campus. 

 

Hancock frowned at her in a way that seemed to say “I know you’re not telling me something and you know I’m going to find out what sooner or later”, but for now he said nothing. 

 

Instead he sat himself on a fallen log and unbuttoned his coat to inspect the dressing on his wound.

 

“It’s dry, looks like they held up.”

 

“Good, it’s too damn cold out here to be playing doctor.”

 

“Agreed,” Hancock said with a shiver as he bundled back up.

 

“Now that we’re on this side of the river it’s pretty much a straight shot to Bunker Hill. Nothing to really worry about but bandits and landmines. Should be easy,” Silver cracked. 

 

Maybe you could try out your new move on a Gunner if we run into one huh?” Hancock joked back, shouldering his shotgun and pulling out a smoke.

 

“Think it would work as well?” Silver asked, shaking her bangs out of her eyes. 

 

“Might, Gunners are a lot dumber than mirelurks so…”

 

Silver laughed despite herself. 

 

_ Idiot ghoul... _

 

“At least they smell better.”

 

Hancock shook his head. “Don’t count on it.”

 

With the adrenaline starting to fade, Silver began to feel a twinge of pain she hadn’t noticed before. She looked down at her gloveless hand and hissed. Her palm and finger pads were slashed this way and that from the mirelurk’s hard exterior. Blood dripped from her knuckles and cuticles where they were not caked over with mud. 

 

Hancock craned his neck to get a glimpse at it. “Ouch. Maybe don’t try that again after all…” 

 

_ Shit. _

 

Silver reached into her breast pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and bound the wound as best as she could. She struggled to make the knot with one hand.

 

“Give it here,” Hancock told her with a wave of his hand. 

 

Silver frowned but even she could recognize that declining his help would be stupid and petty, so she offered up her bloody palm.

 

His bone thin fingers worked quickly but carefully, and he finished without making her yelp.   

 

“Thanks...I need to clean this up. Think there is a bar or something nearby? Somewhere that might still have alcohol?” Silver asked, shaking mud off of her boot.

 

“It’s the Commonwealth so, odds are...Wanna look for a place?”

 

Silver sighed with defeat. “We just got moving…”

 

“Yeah, but look at you.”

 

“Yeah...I guess we better huh?”

 

“Might be raiders or somethin’ though, how are you on ammo?”

 

Silver patted the pack strapped to her hip. “Good to go. And if there are any raiders, we’ll just take their ammo so, what’s to worry about?”

 

“I like your attitude miss Donahue,” Hancock chuckled.

 

“Yeah...come on, let’s get going.”

 

Hancock took a few fast drags of his cigarette before stomping it out and leading the way into the Cambridge suburb in search of beer.

 

***

 

As luck would have it, there was a bar nearby. It was little more that a boarded up shack that no one had bothered since the bombs fell. Hancock entered first, and upon finding no feral ghouls, he gave the all clear for Silver.

 

“Ugh, the air in here is so stale,” Silver commented as she squeezed between the boards barring the door, rather than climbing through the broken window where Hancock had entered.

 

_ Would I have fit through that a month ago? _

 

_ Look what you did to me Paulie… _

 

“Think the place still has power?” Hancock asked, lighting yet another cigarette.

 

“You Shouldn’t do that in here, we don’t know what’s in the air and there isn’t any ventilation.”

 

_ And because I really want one too. Ugh! _

 

Hancock shrugged and simultaneously dropped his pack onto a dusty table. “It’ll be fine doll, relax.”  

 

Silver huffed and threw her own pack down onto the bar.

 

The bar was small and simple. Wooden floors, wooden walls, and a dozen round wooden tables with wooden chairs. Old oil lamps sat on most of the tables, though some were broken or on the floor now. A dart board, still stuck with a single dart, and an old american flag were the only decorations to be found that had not faded or rotted into indistinguishability.  A heavy oak bar sat against the immediate wall, backed by a few bottles of liquor and a dusty full wall mirror. At the far end, just past the bar, was a metal hatch door, presumably leading to a cellar. On the other end, a pair of swinging doors, presumably leading to the kitchen. In the very center was a pool table with a pool stick broken into three pieces laying on top. 

 

“Let’s get into the basement then.”

 

“Lead the way Miss Donahue.”

 

Silver shook off her cloak and hung it over the head of a jackalope mounted on the wall beside the bar. Her hand had stopped bleeding as it had become caked over with blood. Curling it around her rifle would cause it to crack open and bleed again, making her grip unreliable. Instead she drew her pistol from her hip and held it in her good hand.

 

Silver checked her clip and used the bar to slide it back in afterwards.“I’ll go first.” 

 

“You can stay if you want, I’m sure it’s nothin I can’t handle,” Hancock offered, adjusting his hat.

 

“Can you even shoot with that hand? You’re a lefty ain’t ya?”

 

“I can shoot better with my right than you can with yours,” she quipped.

 

He laughed. “You say that, but-”

 

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

 

“Have it your way then.”

 

Hancock lifted open the hatch and let it fall to the floor with a clang. Silver frowned at him.

 

_ Asshole… _

 

“What?” Hancock grinned back at her with mock sheepishness. “I was trying to scare up any rad roaches down there. Moving targets are more fun.”

 

Silver shook her head and moved past him into the cellar.

 

The cellar was dry and mostly clean. The pantry was remarkably stocked and free of rad roaches. 

 

Hancock whistled. “Well would you look at that.”

 

“No one’s looted through here before, that’s amazing. Wonder how many places like this are left out here,” Silver mumbled.

 

“Hey, you’re in luck, there’s water in here,” Hancock called, tapping the large blue jug of it with his boot. “Maybe not all that safe to drink. but it should do ya just fine.”

 

Removing her dirty coat and remaining glove Silver moved into the pantry and investigated the jug herself. She cracked open the cap and sniffed it. It smelled acrid with chlorine and age. Water wasn’t supposed to be musty, but at the very least it looked clear. 

 

“Should be fine,” she assured him, untying the handkerchief with her good fingers and her teeth. 

 

Hancock tilted the jug, sloshing water into a dusty bowl, as well as onto the floor. He cursed, realizing his mistake and tossed the water out to fill it again.   

 

Silver shook her head and took the bowl from him into the kitchen to wash her wounds. She wet the cloth and dabbed at the worst of the mud and the blood.

 

“How’s it look?” Hancock asker her, wiping the dust off of a Nuka Cola bottle and cracking it open. 

 

The sweet smell of 200 year old syrup filled the air.

 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. They sting like hell but the cuts are pretty shallow.”

 

Silver dunked her hand in the bowl of water and gently washed the blood and dirt away. The irritation caused the cuts to give up a trickle of fresh blood, further coloring the water.  

 

“I’m guessing that’s not the first time those things have come in handy huh?”

 

Silver shook her head. “Definitely not.”

 

“Don’t you ever cut yourself with them?”

 

“Not anymore. Guess I did back then but...I learned my way around them.”

 

Hancock smiled at her and took another sip of the soda. “How sharp are they really anyways?”

 

“You wanna find out first hand?” she asked him, something wicked and almost pleasant creeping up in her throat.

 

Hancock laughed and waved his hand. “Nah I think I’ll pass. Thanks though.”

 

_ What is happening? Are we actually getting along? _

 

Silver wrapped her hand in bandages then washed her gloves clean.

 

“There, that looks better.” she whispered to herself and pulled them on.

 

“I dunno,” Hancock said with a shrug, handing silver a bag of crisps. “I think you kinda make mud look good.”

 

Silver pushed him out of her way, doing her best to look put off, then winced.

 

_ Ouch. Hand. _

 

She slowly flexed her fingers. That was going to be a nuisance for a few days to come. She could manage, but it was bound to get infected. 

 

She sighed and opened the pack of crisps. They were beyond stale, but they were still salty, so she let it slide.

 

“How far are we now?”

 

“Closer than yesterday. I dunno, hard to plan travel routes in the wealth. Things change too fast. Raiders, trees fall, yaoguai hibernate. At this rate we should get there just after nightfall I guess.”

 

Silver threw the crisp crumbs down and pulled her coat on. “Let’s get going then. I don’t wanna get caught out there in the middle of the night.”

 

She moved for the stairs when they both froze. Overhead they heard the steady thump thump thump of footsteps.

 

Silver instinctively lowered her stance and readied her gun.

 

“Benny, I’m telling you there is no one-”

 

“Shut up Klob, I know what I saw. Someone is in here. We’ve got em cornered.”

 

“Shit…” Silver whispered. 

 

“We can take ‘em,” Hancock assured her, drawing his own gun.

“We should let them come to us,” she replied. 

 

“No good, there is no cover down here, we should move before they get wise we’re down here.”

 

_ Shit, he’s right... _

 

Silver nodded and tiptoed up the old wooden steps as quiet as possible. She could feel his eyes on her back, but she couldn’t feel any nervous energy. He was watching her for the next move, ready to take her lead. 

 

_ Well, he may talk a lot, but least he’s good in a fight. _

 

“Look, these must be their bags,” said the raider identified as Benny. “I told you there was someone here!”

 

“Hey, yeah, you’re right. Shit, we should just take em and run Benny…”

 

“What and let them have the beer? I don’t think so. Let’s check the kitchen.”

 

Silver waited till she heard the flapping of the swinging doors before moving up into the ground floor.

 

“Let’s just go,” Silver urged him while trying to retrieve her cloak from the mythical taxidermy. 

 

“Nah, I say we put em’ down like they was gonna do us.”

 

“Hancock, we can just go, we don’t have to-”

 

“We don’t kill em, they’ll go out and kill someone else.”

Silver opened her mouth to argue again but she happened to glimpse the shadow moving into the doorway behind uom.  doors again and there was the 

“Down! DOWN!” Silver yelled letting her gun fall to the side as she tackled Hancock to the ground behind the bar just as bullets tore into the wall behind him. 

 

“Hey, buy a ghoul a drink first at least,” He groaned, trying to disentangle their boney limbs.

 

“Shut up!” Silver growled, smashing his face against the floor with her palm in an attempt to climb over him and reach her gun.

 

“Oof! Hey!”

 

“What the hell was that?” one of the raiders yelled from the kitchen.

 

The third man answered from the doorway. “In here! I got em’ trapped like bloatflies in a jar!” he laughed.

 

Hancock rolled onto his side, dropping Silver off of him, and picked up her pistol. 

 

_ Hey, that’s mine! _

 

Fast footsteps from the kitchen then the swinging doors. Two loud pops. One bullet sticks in a wooden post at the end of the bar, the second hits Klob in the gut. He goes down howling. And then He is crouched down beside her again. 

 

Silver is back on her knees, but sans pistol. 

 

_ Think. _

 

She puts a hand on the shelf in front of her to steady herself. 

 

_ Use it or lose it Donahue.  _

 

The tips of her fingers brush something laying in the shadows. Long, heavy. A bat. A pipe.

 

_ This’ll have to do. _

 

She locked eyes with Hancock. A quick glance towards the doorway.

 

_ He’s yours. _

 

Back towards the kitchen.

 

_ They’re mine. Got it? _

 

He got it. He gave her a nod. She nodded back. He had to go on her signal. What was her signal? There was no point thinking about it, going  _ was _ her signal. 

 

Before Benny could work up the nerve to peer over the bar and plug them like fish in a barrel, Silver picked up the hidden weapon, a baseball bat, and vaulted onto the bar in one swift leap.

 

_ Ten. _

 

She didn’t have to rear up to swing. She let her momentum carry her through the motion. She knew his head would be where it needed to be by the time the bat got there, and it was. 

 

_ Nine. _

 

She struck his jaw. Not fatal, but enough to ring his bell a good one. Blood and spit sprayed out of his mouth, flecks landing on her boots. A partially rotten incisor rolled across the bar.

 

Hancock was up, the third goon’s aim was on her, he couldn’t shoot them both. She hoped he would be too surprised to shoot at all. 

 

She jumped off the bar, raised the bat above her head.

 

_ Eight. _

 

Pop. Close behind her this time. Her gun in his hand. 

 

_ Seven. _

 

Another pop. Goon’s gun, pulled out of reflex. She didn’t collapse so odds were in her favor for not being hit. 

 

_ Six.  _

 

A third pop. Hancock shot again. She brought the bat down. 

 

_ Five. _

 

Crack. A skull splitting open, she hoped.

 

_ Four. _

 

And a thud. The third raider falling down. 

 

_ Three. _

 

Another crack. The bat again, just to be safe.      

_ Two. _

 

Everything was quiet. Everything was still. 

 

_ One. _

 

And she was still in control.


End file.
